It/ 


THE  INCOGNITO   LIBRARY 


THE  INCOGNITO  LIBRARY. 


A  series  of  small  books  by  representative 
writers,  whose  names  will  for  the  present  not 
be  given. 

In  this  series  will  be  included  the  authorized 
American  editions  of  the  future  issues  of  Mr. 
Unwin's  "  PSEUDONYM  LIBRARY,"  which  has 
won  for  itself  a  noteworthy  prestige. 

32mo,  limp  cloth,  each  50  cents. 

I.  THE  SHEN'S  PIGTAIL,  and  other  cues  of 

Anglo-China  Life,  by  Mr.  M . 

II.  THE  HON.  STANBURY  AND  OTHERS,  by 

Two. 

III.  LESSER'S  DAUGHTER,  by  Mrs.  Andrew 

Dean. 

IV.  A  HUSBAND  OF  No  IMPORTANCE,  by 

Rita. 

These  will  be  followed  by 
HELEN,  by  Vocs. 


A 

HUSBAND 

OF 

No  IMPORTANCE 


BY 

IT  A    ps* 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW    YORK  LONDON 

27  West  Twenty-third  Street  24  Bedford  Street,  Strand 

tTbe  Ifcmcfecrbocfccr  preea 
1894 


COPYRIGHT,  1894 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Elcctrotyped,  Printed  and  Bound  by 

TTbe  •Knickerbocker  fftress,  Hew 
O.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


CONTENTS. 


I. — "THE       WORLD      THAT 

AMUSES  us."       .         .       3 

II. CACKLE  .  .  .  .20 

III. — A       SERIOUS      "QUART 

D'HEURE"  .         .         .32 

IV. A  BATTLE  OF    OPINIONS     48 

V. THREE  TYPES         .         .     62 

VI. — SOME  REFLECTIONS,  AND 

A   RESULT     .  .  -79 

VII. — MISGIVINGS       .  .  -93 

VIII. — AN  "  ARTICLE"  DEFINITE 

AND  DEFINED     .         .   105 

IX. A  WHOLESOME   DESPAIR  Il6 

X. AND       YET       ANOTHER 

"TYPE."      .         .         .128 
XI. — "THROUGH      A      MAN'S 

EYES"         .        .         .144 

XII. A  "  FIRST  NIGHT  ".         .   157 

X  I  I  I. THE  MORAL  OF  THE  PLAY   171 


Hi 


A    HUSBAND    OF    NO 
IMPORTANCE 


A    HUSBAND    OF    NO 
IMPORTANCE. 

I. 

"  THE  WORLD  THAT   AMUSES  US." 

AMUSING?    .     .    .     isn't  it?" 
said  the  Woman. 

There  was  scorn  in  her 
accent  and  her  eye.  Scorn,  too,  in 
the  curl  of  a  curved  lip,  which 
seemed  to  emphasise  an  opinion  with 
an  interrogation. 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is,  very"  said  the 
Man. 

They  had  not  been  introduced, 
but  that  was  a  mere  detail  to  Mrs. 
Hex  Rashleigh.  She  was  a  woman 
who  never  stopped  to  consider  tri- 
fles. If  she  saw  a  person  she  liked 
she  spoke  to  him,  or  her,  as  the  case 
3 


4    B  Ibusbanfr  of  1Ho  Importance 

might  be.  The  acquaintance  was  then 
allowed  to  drift  or  terminate,  accord- 
ing to  the  interest  awakened.  She 
looked  at  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
spoken,  and  saw  that  he  really  meant 
what  he  had  said. 

He  positively  looked — amused. 
Amused  by  this  caravansary  of 
strange  creatures  who  were  crowd- 
ing, elbowing,  pushing,  and  chat- 
tering at  the  top  of  their  voices. 
Amused  by  overdressed  Jewesses, 
painted  actresses  of  no  particular 
standing,  long-haired  artists  strug- 
gling for  fame,  musicians,  male  and 
female,  longing  for  a  hearing — any- 
how, anywhere,  so  long  as  they  could 
lift  up  their  voices  on  high.  Amused 
by  these  self-important  parvcnues, 
who  fondly  imagined  they  were  in 
society — this  vulgar,  gossiping  clique 
who  made  themselves  the  centre  of 
their  own  universe  of  boredom  ! 

His  blue  eyes  were  dancing  with 
fun  and  enjoyment  as  they  met  her 
puzzled  glance.  He  was  young,  good- 
looking,  finely  built.  Face  and  figure 
bore  the  unmistakable  stamp  of  birth 


a  l3usbanJ>  of  "Ho  Importance    5 

and  breeding.  He  looked  so  out  of 
all  this,  and  yet  he  was — amused. 

"  I  think  they  "re  all  detestable," 
she  said,  after  a  pause.  "  I  wish  I 
had  not  come.  I  only  did  it  out  of 
curiosity.  ...  I  wanted  to  study 
this  section  of  society.  I  'm  on  the 
look-out  for  characters." 

"  Do  you  write  ?  "  he  asked,  re- 
garding her  with  evident  interest. 

"  I  do.  That 's  not  very  wonder- 
ful nowadays." 

"  No,"  he  agreed.  "  I  've  been 
thinking  .  lately  the  wonder  would 
come  in  to  find  a  woman  who  did 
not  write  or  paint,  or  something. 
Faith  !  we  poor  men  are  being  driven 
out  of  the  field  entirely." 

"  Ah  !  you  're  an  Irishman,"  she 
said  quickly. 

"I  am,"  he  answered,  "affecting" 
a  brogue,  though  he  had  it  not. 
"  Strange  how  we  betray  our  na- 
tionality. I  've  heard  people  puzzle 
themselves  over  a  Frenchman,  a  Ger- 
man, a  Swede,  and  then  solve  the 
riddle  satisfactorily  by  announcing, 
'  You  're  a  foreigner.'  " 


6    a  f>usban&  of  Ho  "Importance 

She  laughed.  "  A  moment  ago  I 
should  have  been  puzzled  to  decide 
about  yourself.  That  you  were  so 
easily  amused  might  have  given  me 
a  clue." 

"  Well,  we  do  get  more  fun  out  of 
life  than  you  sober-minded  English 
folk,"  he  said.  "  I  keep  that  instinct 
alive  for  sake  of  the  old  country. 
You  '11  be  shocked  if  I  tell  you  I 
could  n't  resist  a  street  row  to  this 
day." 

He  said  it  with  that  faint  accent 
which  had  seemed  to  amuse  her,  and 
she  looked  at  him  again  with  some 
curiosity  as  to  his  position  or  pro- 
fession. He  was  the  picture  of  aris- 
tocratic indolence,  and  she  hated 
indolent  young  men.  The  business 
of  her  life  was  a  crusade  against 
their  vanity  and  general  uselessness. 

Meanwhile  he  regarded  her  from 
under  long  lashes  which  she  summed 
upas  "womanish,"  though  the  eyes 
themselves  appeared  intent  on  ad- 
miring his  patent  leather  boots. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  at  last,  "  if 
I  've  read  any  of  your  books." 


a  t>u0ban&  of  "Ho  "Importance    7 

"  I  'm  sure  not,"  she  said.  "  They 
are  not  what  is  called  popular.  Not 
the  sort  of  book  that  women  talk 
about  at  dinner  parties,  and  critics 
slate  mercilessly." 

"  Then  you  must  write  with  a 
purpose." 

Her  lip  curled.  "  I  should  be 
sorry,  certainly,  to  write  without." 

"  It 's  waste  of  time,"  he  said 
coolly.  "  It  only  means  boring  peo- 
ple and  losing  your  temper  over  un- 
appreciated efforts.  Confess  you  Ve 
lost  yours — often." 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  was  almost 
taken  off  her  balance. 

She  was  a  very  well-known  per- 
son, and,  sometimes,  a  very  impor- 
tant one.  She  wrote  really  clever 
books.  She  was  also  a  journalist, 
and  had  once  edited  a -magazine. 
She  contributed  to  the  Fortnightly 
and  the  Quarterly.  She  went  to 
everything  worth  going  to  in  Lon- 
don, and  knew  all  its  celebrities  by 
sight  and  most  of  them  personally. 
Therefore  it  goes  without  saying  that 
she  was  a  person  of  brains  and 


8    a  1>u8banfc  of  Ho  flmportancc 

talent.  A  woman  of  importance 
even  in  these  days  of  important 
women,  and  yet  she  found  herself 
at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  a  young 
man. 

"  No,"  she  said  at  last.  "  To  quote 
our  Laureate — 

'  One  needs  must  love  the  highest.' 

I  love  it,  and  work  for  it.  I  don't 
expect  appreciation.  Worthier  and 
greater  women  than  I  have  lived  and 
died  without  it." 

"  You  've  not  told  me  what  you 
have  written  yet." 

"  I  don't  advertise  my  wares,"  she 
said  brusquely.  "  You  can  find  out 
my  books  very  easily  if  you  have  a 
mind  to.  But  perhaps  you  don't 
read  novels  ? " 

"  Only  Lever's,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  Anything  else  is  beyond  me." 

She  flashed  a  keen  glance  at  the 
imperturbable  face.  Then  took  him 
at  his  own  valuation. 

"  I  should  have  thought  so,"  she 
said  sarcastically.  "  But  what 's  go- 
ing on  now  ?" 


a  *U8bano  of  Ho  Ifmportance    9 

There  was  a  faint  stir  amongst 
the  crowd,  a  sibilant  whisper  of 
"  Hush — h  "  from  an  anxious-faced 
hostess. 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  looked  over 
a  sea  of  bonnets  and  hats.  "  Oh  ! 
a  recitation.  I  'm  so  sick  of  them  !  " 
she  observed. 

"Are  you?  I'm  sorry  for  that: 
I  enjoy  them  above  all  things." 

"  Hush — h — h  "  came  again  across 
the  room. 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  frowned,  and 
made  a  mental  note  against  subur- 
ban manners  for  the  benefit  of  The 
World's  Mirror  and  Up-to-Date,  for 
both  of  which  she  wrote. 

The  reciter  stood  up.  She  was  a 
small  woman  with  a  babyish  face,  a 
pile  of  grey  hair  arranged  in  irregu- 
lar sausage-rolls,  a  large  hat,  and  an 
affected  manner. 

"  I  '11  bet  it 's  about  babies,"  mur- 
mured Mrs.  Rashleigh.  "  She  looks 
that  sort.  '  Papa's  Letter  !  '  Oh 
dear  !  For  the  hundred  and  ninety- 
ninth  time  !  .  .  .  I  wish  I  could 
escape." 


io  a  tmsbano  of  1fto  -Importance 

"  Rough  on  the  poor  little  thing. 
She 's  not  half  bad,"  drawled  the 
Irishman,  lazily. 

A  few  indignant  glances  shot  right 
and  left  at  them  showed  that  the 
reciter  had  friends  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood who  were  justly  indignant 
at  such  criticism. 

They  resigned  themselves  to  listen 
to  the  childish  babble  that  was  more 
suited  to  the  nursery  than  the  draw- 
ing-room, but  then  Northerton  was 
rather  behind  the  times. 

It  was  a  suburb  or  neighbourhood 
that  had  broken  out  in  sections,  and 
spread  itself  from  the  main  body 
through  various  channels  and  ar- 
teries until  it  had  reached  a  region 
touching  on  Wormwood  Common. 
Yet  still  it  clung  to  a  sort  of  baptis- 
mal certificate  that  proclaimed  it  a 
relation  of  more  fashionable  dis- 
tricts. Set  going  with  such  irre- 
proachable relatives,  Northerton  had 
launched  forth  into  splendid  man- 
sions, tall  terraces,  and  semi-de- 
tached villas.  It  called  its  streets 
"  gardens."  Almost  every  one  of 


B  tmsbanc*  of  Ho  Importance   it 

them  was  "  something  Gardens." 
"  So  much  more  style  about  that 
than  Terrace  or  Road,"  said  the 
inhabitants. 

The  houses  were  imposing,  and 
boasted  of  all  the  modern  improve- 
ments. The  rents  were  moderate. 
The  district  soon  became  populated, 
and  perambulators  and  "  go-carts" 
were  a  common  sight. 

When  a  neighbourhood  boasts  of 
imposing  domiciles,  moderate  rents, 
and  vast  caravans  of  infantile  human- 
ity, it  generally  means  a  descent  of  the 
— not  lost )  but  living  tribes  of  Israel. 

They  come — they  stay — they  con- 
quer. 

It  was  so  with  this  delightful 
suburb.  Mrs.  Levi,  and  Mrs.  Moses, 
and  Mrs.  Nathan,  and  Mrs.  Korah, 
Dathan,  and  Abiram  flocked  thither 
on  one  another's  heels,  and  assured 
each  other  a  hundred  times  a  week 
that  the  air  was  so  good  for  the  chil- 
dren, the  train  so  convenient  for 
their  lords  and  masters,  and  the 
fish-shops  so  cheap.  Nothing  could 
be  more  suitable  for  a  new  colony  ! 


12  a  twebanfc  of  Ho  Importance 

And  the  houses  ?  One  really  had 
one's  money's  worth. 

They  were  large,  well-designed, 
airy,  and  "  up-to-date  "  in  the  way 
of  electric  bells  and  conservatories 
and  front  doors.  Northerton  was 
especially  great  in  the  matter  of 
front  doors,  with  stained  glass  panels 
and  elaborate  brass  knockers.  On 
the  whole,  the  Semitic  section  of 
the  suburb  were  much  delighted 
with  its  advantages,  and  their  Sat- 
urday morning  devotional  promen- 
ade made  quite  a  brilliant  spectacle 
and  a  convenient  rendezvous  for  the 
various  tribes. 

Occasionally  the  Semitic  section 
entertained. 

They  did  it  well,  and  expense 
was  no  object.  True  they  resorted 
to  many  little  stratagems  for  pro- 
curing artistes  or  amusements.  But 
then  this  might  have  been  due  to 
prejudice.  The  Israelite,  as  a  rule, 
has  but  a  poor  opinion  of  any 
human  being  who  resorts  to  art  for 
a  livelihood — knowing  well  that  it 
is  not  a  money-making  profession. 


a  1)u0ban&  of  flo  Importance  13 

So  when  it  came  to  entertaining 
their  friends  they  put  the  matter  on 
a  footing  of  favour.  The  professional 
singer  or  player  would  not  receive 
terms  .  .  .  but  if  at  any  time  they 
gave  a  concert  the  Section  would 
rally  round  them  in  the  matter  of 
selling  or  taking  tickets. 

The  professionals  came — some  out 
of  curiosity,  some  because  they 
wanted  "  to  be  heard  " — it  mattered 
not  by  whom  as  long  as  there  was 
an  audience.  Everything  must  have 
a  beginning,  so  they  accepted  invi- 
tations to  Northerton  "  At  Homes." 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  had  been 
decoyed  thither  this  warm  June 
afternoon  by  a  friend  who  said  it 
would  do  for  "  copy."  The  friend 
was  rich,  popular,  good-looking,  and 
loved  to  go  "  everywhere."  She  had 
determined  on  writing  a  wonderful 
book — some  day.  Such  a  book  as 
had  never  yet  been  written.  A 
book  that  would  make  modern  au- 
thors look  to  their  laurels.  But  it 
wanted  a  vast  amount  of  prep- 
aration. She  had  already  invented 


14  a  1)U8banJ>  of  Ho  Importance 

, i£ 

some  twenty  or  thirty  plots,  but  was 
not  quite  satisfied  with  any  of  them. 
Meantime  she  wrote  short  tales  for 
the  magazines.  Mrs.  Rashleigh  and 
Mrs.  Despard  were  great  friends. 
They  were  almost  always  together, 
and  almost  always  on  the  search  for 
new  experiences.  What  they  had 
expected  to  find  in  Northerton  they 
alone  knew. 

Having  drifted  asunder  in  the 
crowd  Mrs.  Rashleigh  had  opened 
a  conversation  with  Blake  Beverley, 
as  she  had  a  trick  of  doing  with 
people  if  she  liked  the  look  of  them. 
By  the  time  the  baby-faced  reciter 
with  the  grey  curls  had  finished  her 
harrowing  description  of  a  postage 
stamp  and  a  pair  of  runaway  horses, 
Mrs.  Rashleigh  was  convinced  that 
the  young  man  was  worth  cultivating. 

"  Do  you  live  in  this  neighbour- 
hood ?"  she  asked,  under  cover  of 
applause. 

"  Oh,  no.  ...  I  live  at  the  other 
end  of  the  North  Pole." 

"  The  North  Pole  ?  "  She  re- 
flected, and  looked  bewildered. 


H  1>uebanO  of  Ho  Importance  15 

"Didn't  you  know?  We're  al- 
most at  it.  It 's  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  off.  ...  A  great  place  on  a 
Bank  Holiday,  I  assure  you." 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  felt  indignant. 
This  young  man  was  treating  her 
to  "chaff,"  evidently.  She  did  not 
like  it. 

"  I  mentioned  I  had  never  been 
in  this  part  of  the  world  before,"  she 
said  frigidly.  "  Judging  from  the 
people  here"  with  a  comprehensive 
sweep  of  her  hand,  "  I  seem  to  have 
strayed  into  a  New  Jerusalem." 

"  There  has  been  an  exodus  late- 
ly from  Maida  Vale,"  he  answered. 
"  Result — University  Gardens." 

"  Is  that  the  name  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  not  very  applicable  perhaps, 
but  there  are  a  few  Christians  scat- 
tered about.  Note  that  auburn- 
haired  woman  with  her  daughters 
'  gathered  like  chickens  under  her 
wings.'  They  've  sat  in  that  corner 
the  whole  afternoon — and  behold, 
oh  !  wonder  of  wonders — a  parson  ! 
Surely  he  has  n't  come  on  a  '  mission 
for  converting  female  Israel ! ' ' 


16  B  fnisbanfc  of  flo  Importance 

She  laughed.  "  I  know  him,  he 
goes  everywhere.  He  is  liberal- 
minded,  except  to  his  own  parish. 
But  that 's  neither  here  nor  there. 
He  's  only  setting  an  example." 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  fashion  he  was 
setting.  His  coat  has  been  a  source 
of  wonder  to  me.  I  took  it  for  moire 
antique,  but  I  believe  it 's — alpaca." 

"  Have  you  ever  remarked  how 
many  human  faces  resemble  different 
animals,  or  birds  ?  One  could  class- 
ify his  very  easily " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  if  he  bleated  it 
would  not  surprise  me. 

"  And,  there  again,"  she  said,  with 
a  glance  at  a  portly  female,  satin- 
robed  and  purple-faced.  "  Bovine, 
is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  The  safe  and  homely  type,  ac- 
cording to  modern  writers." 

"  Take  care,"  she  said.  "  For 
aught  you  know  you  may  be  tread- 
ing on  dangerous  ground." 

"  Oh  !  I  'm  sure  you  're  strong- 
minded — I  could  tell  that  by  your 
chin.  But  I  hope  not  too  ad- 
vanced." 


B  f>u0ban&  of  flo  Umportance  17 

"  That  depends,"  she  said  gravely, 
"  on  what  you  term  '  advanced.'  But 
I  scarcely  think  this  is  the  time  or 
place  for  such  a  discussion.  First 
we  've  been  uncharitable,  now  we  're 
drifting  into  personalities.  It 's  time 
to  part." 

"  Don't  you  ever  discuss  personali- 
ties then  ?  " 

"  With  kindred  souls,  yes." 

"  The  fact  of  our  meeting  here,  and 
mutually  abusing  our  entertainment, 
shows  we  have  something  in  com- 
mon." 

"  That  does  not  sound  nice,"  she 
said,  with  a  sudden  flush  of  colour. 
"  Why  did  you  come  ? " 

"  Because  I  was  asked.  Our  host- 
ess as  you  know — or  perhaps  you 
don't  know — is  a  German  lady.  I 
met  her  at  a  big  luncheon  in  the 
West  End.  I  was  induced  to  sing. 
She  got  introduced  to  me.  The  next 
day  I  had  a  card  and  here  I  am." 

"  But  the — inducement  ?  " 

"  Pure  curiosity,  I  assure  you.  I 
only  know  one  person  in  the  crowd." 

"Is  that   that   woman   over  there 

a 


is  B  twsbanD  of  flo  Importance 

who  's  been  making  eyes  at  you  so 
long  ? " 

He  started  and  coloured  slightly. 
"  You  flatter  me.  No — I  have  n't 
the  honour  of  her  acquaintance." 

"  You  soon  will  then.  I  can  read 
character — at  least  that  of  my  own 
sex»  That  woman  means  to  know 
you." 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  I  don't  mind. 
She  's  good-looking — fair — fine  fig- 
ure. Rather  my  style." 

"  Good-looking  !  "  There  was 
withering  contempt  in  the  voice. 
"  A  face  like  a  cat's — small  screwed- 
up  eyes,  dyed  hair,  a  coarse  mouth. 
Figure — a  dressmaker's  model.  How 
blind  men  are  !  " 

"  I  do  believe  she  is  coming  this 
way,"  he  said. 

He  had  noted  every  point  enu- 
merated, but  he  was  bent  on  "  draw- 
ing out  "  his  new  acquaintance.  She 
amused  him  immensely,  and  he  was 
longing  to  know  who  she  really 
was. 

"  I  told  you  she  meant  to  know 
you." 


a  l)U8ban&  of  Ho  Umportance  19 

"  I  feel  alarmed.  You  're  a  sort 
of  sorceress.  You  're  not  going  to 
leave  me  unprotected,  are  you  ? " 

"  I  see  my  friend  over  there.  I 
hope  she  's  going  away.  I  've  had 
enough  of  this.  .  .  .  Your  fate 
is  approaching." 

"  One  thing  more,"  he  entreated. 
"  In  what  category  of  natural  history 
would  you  place  that  approaching 
fate  ? " 

She  flashed  one  swift  glance  at  his 
mirthful  eyes,  then  rose  from  the 
seat  she  had  so  long  occupied. 

"  A  Bird  of  Prey  ! "  she  said  sig- 
nificantly. 


II. 

CACKLE. 

SOME   quarter  of  an  hour   later, 
two  women  were  leaning  back 
in  their  victoria  and  satirising 
University  Gardens  with  that  com- 
mendable spirit  of  nineteenth    cen- 
tury charity  which  "  thinketh  evil  " 
of  every  one   and    everybody — and 
says  it  too. 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  was  in  a  bad 
temper,  and  she  let  her  friend  know 
that  she  considered  this  an  afternoon 
wasted. 

"  Vulgar — stupid — hateful  !  "  she 
repeated.  "  All  Jews  ever  want  you 
to  do  is  to  appraise  their  household 
gods,  eat  their  food,  and  admire  their 
wives'  jewels.  What  a  set  !  How 
could  you  go  there  ? " 

20 


a  tmsbanD  of  Ho  importance  21 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  a  bit  proud," 
laughed  pretty  little  Mrs.  Despard, 
safe  in  the  possession  of  irreproach- 
able lineage,  and  equally  irreproach- 
able fortunes.  "  I  go  anywhere  and 
everywhere.  Contrasts  are  amusing. 
Buckingham  Palace  one  day  and 
Peckham  Rye  the  next.  The  cream 
and  the  skim  milk  alternately,  .  .  . 
that 's  half  the  pleasure  of  life." 

"  I  can't  say  I  find  pleasure  a  very 
inventive  god,"  observed  Mrs.  Rash- 
leigh.  "And  as  for  skim-milk  .  .  .  " 
She  shuddered  and  opened  her  lace 
sunshade  as  the  carriage  swept  along 
the  broad  high-road.  "  What  sort 
of  people  live  here  ?  "  she  asked  con- 
temptuously. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  if  it  comes  to  that, 
much  the  same  sort  as  ourselves — as 
far  as  morals  go.  I  cannot  give  you 
a  carte  du  pays  of  the  settlement. 
I  've  only  been  to  it  some  half-dozen 
times.  But  I  take  it  that  each  little 
tract  of  country  has  its  own  special 
set,  its  own  circle  of  gossip,  its  own 
centre  of  ambition.  You  see  May- 
fair  and  Mile  End  are  not  very  un- 


22  a  fjuebano  of  flo  Importance 

like  after  all.  It 's  only  a  question 
of  a  little  less  money,  a  little  less 
extravagance,  and  the  City  Road  to 
shop  in  instead  of  Bond  Street." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  It 's  a  ques- 
tion of  a  possible  and  impossible 
life  !  " 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  had  a  bijou 
flat  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Sloane 
Street.  To  her  this  region  of  dull 
respectability  and  incessant  omni- 
buses seemed  as  a  very  Sahara. 

"  There  are  a  few  military  people," 
went  on  Mrs.  Despard,  whom  all  her 
friends  called  V^loutine,  "  and  a  col- 
ony of  retired  Indians — I  don't  mean 
savages,  you  know — the  sort  of  peo- 
ple who  pride  themselves  on  their 
curries  and  kitcherees,  who  talk  of 
Calcutta  as  a  lost  paradise,  and  are 
quite  unable  to  believe  that  their  own 
importance  is  insignificant  after  forty 
years  of  native  kow-towing  and  offi- 
cial dignity.  Would  they  amuse 
you  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  know  the 
class.  Vain,  selfish,  arrogant,  for 
ever  bringing  up  legends  of  past 


a  fnisbanfc  of  Ho  Importance  23 

glories  and  sprinkling  Hindustani 
about  their  conversation  by  way  of 
'  local  colour.'  " 

"  You  're  in  a  bad  humour,  Mar- 
iori.  Did  it  really  bore  you  so  much  ? 
I  saw  you  talking  very  animatedly 
once — to  a  man.  Who  was  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Irish,  I  believe. 
A  singer,  he  told  me." 

"  Impossible  ;  he  had  n't  the  artist 
look.  I  thought  he  was  an  army 
man.  Why  did  n't  you  ask  his 
name  ? M 

"  I  did  n't  feel  sufficiently  in- 
terested in  him." 

"  He  was  the  only  decent  speci- 
men of  the  male  sex  there.  He 
looked  out  of  his  element,  I 
thought." 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  said  he  was 
immensely  amused." 

"  You  say  that  as  if  the  fact  an- 
noyed you.  I  wish  I  had  had  the 
chance  of  speaking.  A  singer,  did 
you  say?  I  don't  know  his  face  at 
all.  I  saw  that  awful  Loosely  woman 
get  hold  of  him  before  we  left.  Trust 
her  for  tracking." 


24  a  tmsbanft  of  Ho  Umportance 

"  Who  is  she?  "  asked  Mrs.  Rash- 
leigh  eagerly.  "  One  of  the  "  lo- 
cals ? " 

"  Yes.  I  know  a  neighbour  of 
hers,  so  I  've  heard  a  good  deal 
about  her.  She 's  the  sort  of  wo- 
man who  puts  on  a  pink  apron  and 
waters  her  plants  in  the  balcony 
every  morning,  trilling  little  '  chan- 
sonettes '  all  the  time.  She  has  a 
house  in  that  big  square  we  Ve  just 
passed.  The  remarkable  feature  of 
the  house  is  a  smoking-room — a  femi- 
nine one.  It  opens  on  a  balcony — 
balcony  on  steps — steps  on  garden — 
garden  on  Square.  So  convenient !  " 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean, 
Tina?" 

Mrs.  Despard  laughed  softly.  "  If 
you  knew  Laura  Loosely  you 
would  n't  ask.  She 's  a  little  too 
much  even  for  me.  But  I  mustn't 
talk  scandal — though  this  is  the  very 
hotbed  and  forcing-house  of  that 
noxious  plant.  You  look  quite  sol- 
emn. What  is  it?" 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  answered  vaguely. 
Her  mind  was  preoccupied.  She 


a  fjuebanfc  of  "Wo  ITmportance  25 

was  reflecting  on  "  types,"  and  won- 
dering why  the  Bird  of  Prey  had 
suggested  itself  to  her  mind.  What 
had  she  said  to  him  ?  How  stupid 
not  to  have  asked  his  name ! 

"  Shall  we  do  the  Park,  or  go  to 
the  Club?"  asked  Mrs.  Despard  as 
the  victoria  turned  into  the  Bays- 
water  Road  at  last. 

"  You  might  set  me  down  at  the 
Club.  I  've  some  letters  to  write, 
and  the  column  to  do  for  the  Sturm 
und  Drang." 

"  Very  well." 

Mrs.  Despard  gave  the  necessary 
order  to  the  coachman,  and  they 
drove  straight  on  towards  Oxford 
Street. 

"What  do  you  do  to-night?"  she 
asked  presently. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the '  Circle  '  for 
an  hour  or  two.  I  Ve  not  been  once 
this  season ;  and  to-night  they  've 
something  special." 

"Well,  I'll  go  too.  But  you'll 
come  across  a  lot  of  our  late  friends 
again.  I  don't  know  how  they  've 
managed  to  get  in,  but  they  have." 


"  Oh,  it  's  like  everything  else  men 
manage,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rashleigh, 
contemptuously.  "  The  thing  was 
first  started  for  workers  only.  One 
had  to  write,  or  paint,  or  act,  or  sing, 
before  one  could  claim  admission. 
Now,  just  look  at  the  crew  that  have 
managed  to  get  in  as  members  ;  and 
the  lady  secretary  resigns,  and  then 
some  one's  husband  takes  it  up,  and 
it 's  more  a  man's  affair  now  th^n  a 
woman's." 

"  I  hear  it 's  better  this  season. 
More  select." 

"Select!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rash- 
leigh, shrugging  her  shoulders. 
"Who  wants  it  to  be  select?  We 
intended  it  as  a  common  meeting 
ground  for  authors  and  artists,  as  I 
said.  There  was  no  nonsen-se  about 
dress.  You  could  go  in  cotton  or 
tweed  if  you  liked.  Now  they  're 
all  trying  to  outvie  each  other  for 
the  sake  of  getting  a  line  in  a  fashion 
paper,  and  you  meet  women  with 
spines  instead  of  brains,  and  dia- 
monds instead  of  talent  !  They  '11 
be  introducing  skirt-dancing  next, 


or  wanting  the  cotillon  and  cham- 
pagne suppers." 

Mrs.  Despard  looked  amused. 
"  Decidedly,"  she  said,  "  the  wind  is 
in  the  east  with  you  to-day.  I  won't 
take  you  to  Northerton  again." 

"  No,  please  don't.  A  little  of 
that  goes  a  long  way.  ...  By 
the  way,  what  did  you  say  was  the 
name  of  that  woman — with  the  .  .  . 
house-that- Jack-built  arrangement, 
you  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Loosely — Mrs.  Loosely.  .  .  . 
I  don't  know  how  even  the  '  colon- 
ists '  tolerate  her  !  There  '11  be  an 
open  scandal  some  day  ;  but  she  's 
been  very  clever  as  yet.  Manages 
to  throw  dust  in  a  good  many  eyes 
besides  her  husband's " 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  husband  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear.  That 's 
why  she 's  so  safe.  He 's  nearly  as 
retiring  and — useful  an  appendage 
as  your  own.  I  always  expect  to 
hear  you  announced  as  '  Mrs.  Hex 
Rashleigh  and — her  husband  '  when 
you  do  put  in  an  appearance  together. 
It's  not  often." 


28  a  twBbanD  of  flo  importance 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  shrugged  her 
shoulders.  "  Well,  he  's  not  of  much 
importance,  you  must  allow.  I  Ve 
always  had  my  own  way  and  done 
what  I  wanted.  Why  should  n't  I  ? 
There  's  no  nonsense  about  me.  I  'm 
not  the  sort  of  woman  who  can  only 
run  straight  when  she  's  driven  !  .  .  . 
Now,  you — you  're  full  of  sentiment 
and  romance.  You  like  being  made 
love  to.  I — loathe  it.  Men  to  me 
are  only  abstract  things.  Life  is  a 
history  of  their  vileness,  cruelty,  and 
tyranny.  I  made  up  my  mind  years 
ago  that  I  would  never  put  my  head 
under  the  heel  of  one.  I  should 
hate  to  think  my  husband  was  my 
intellectual  superior." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  all  know  he  's  not 
that"  laughed  her  friend.  "  But 
don't  mount  your  hobby  for  my 
benefit,  dear.  I  know  your  opinions 
pretty  well.  Give  them  to  the  Sturm 
und  Drang,  and  try  to  teach  your 
down-trodden  German  sisterhood  the 
lessons  of  independence  and  emanci- 
pation." 

"  A   nation  of  Haus-Fraus  ruled 


B  twsbano  of  "Wo  importance  29 

by  a  despot  are  not  likely  to  learn 
even  the  alphabet  of  such  a  lesson 
as  we  are  teaching,"  answered  Mrs. 
Rashleigh. 

Then  the  victoria  stopped,  and 
she  got  out  and  entered  a  large  and 
imposing-looking  building,  and  as- 
cended to  the  first  floor.  On  the 
door  was  inscribed  in  elaborate  cap- 
itals, "  The  Woman's  Reconstitution 
Club." 

The  room  which  Mrs.  Rashleigh 
entered  was  large  and  comfortable, 
but  very  plainly  furnished  with  writ- 
ing-tables, chairs,  book-cases,  and 
stands  with  all  the  leading  magazines 
and  papers.  A  few  lounges  for  lazy 
or  tired  members  were  the  only  ap- 
proach to  the  feminine  weakness  of 
comfort. 

A  few  women  were  reading.  Two 
or  three  were  busy  with  pen  and 
papers.  Mrs.  Rashleigh  nodded  a 
general  greeting,  drew  up  a  chair 
to  a  specially  workmanlike  table  in 
a  remote  corner  of  the  large  room, 
and  commenced  to  work. 

No  one  spoke.     The  only  sound 


was  the  scratching  of  pens,  or  the 
rustle  of  a  page  as  it  was  turned. 

The  Reconstitution  Club  was  es- 
sentially a  working  club.  One  of 
use  and  service — no  mere  meeting 
ground  for  afternoon  tea,  illicit  love- 
letters,  and  feminine  scandal. 

It  was  exclusive,  and  it  was  busi- 
nesslike. Society  laughed  at  it — but 
then  it  could  afford  to  pay  off  Society 
in  its  own  coin. 

Here  were  concocted  spicy  "  pars  " 
which  pointed  the  finger  of  scorn  at 
fashionable  sinners.  Here  the  Small 
World  was  enlightened  as  to  the 
doings  of  the  Great  World  it  adored 
at  a  respectful  distance.  Here  were 
formulated  the  bombshells  of  femi- 
nine anarchists  who  hated  and  de- 
spised the  tyranny  of  Man,  and,  while 
accepting  him  as  a  necessity,  would 
sweep  him  away  as  an  obstacle  to 
the  programme  of  emancipation. 

Here  underpaid  genius  found  a 
hearing,  and  overpaid  mediocrity  its 
level.  Here  all  were  helpers  in  one 
great  cause,  and  agreed  to  work  for 
it,  fight  for  it — die  for  it,  if  need  be  ! 


B  t)U8ban&  of  Ho  Umportance  31 

A  noble  army  of  martyrs  banded 
together  by  one  common  fate — the 
fate  of  sex — yet  struggling  boldly  for 
Freedom,  and  determined  to — get  the 
Franchise. 

Probably  when  they  did  get  it 
they  would  only  think  it  a  bore  and 
a  nuisance,  and  forget  their  voting 
papers,  and  quarrel  over  the  atten- 
tions of  a  particular  candidate  ;  but 
that  was  unimportant  at  present. 

They  were  working  for  an  object, 
and  Liberty  seemed  a  beautiful  ideal 
— an  oasis  of  tranquil  ease  in  the 
rush  and  fever  and  oppression  of 
Modern  Life. 

To  this  noble  institution  Mrs.  Hex 
Rashleigh  stood  in  the  proud  posi- 
tion of  Founder,  Prime  Minister, 
and  General  Propagator. 


III. 


A  SERIOUS        QUART   D  HEURE. 

MRS.  HEX  RASHLEIGH  threw 
down  her  pen  at  last  with  an 
exclamation  of  impatience. 
Her   ideas   would   not   flow  ;   her 
diction  lacked    its    usual   ease   and 
fluency    of     expression.      She    felt 
restless,  out  of   temper,  dissatisfied. 
After     all,     even    an    Emancipated 
Woman  can't  get  away  from — moods. 
They  are  the  bane  of  the  sex,  and 
cling  to  it  in  spite  of  abolished  cor- 
sets and  divided  skirts. 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  was  the  victim  of 
a  mood  to-day,  and  it  seriously  in- 
terfered with  her  work. 

She  sighed,  and  glancing  up  from 
the  scattered  sheets  of  MSS.,  caught 
32 


a  twsbanD  of  "Wo  importance  33 

sight  of  her  own  reflection  in  the 
one  mirror  that  graced  the  room. 

There  had  been  a  committee  meet- 
ing on  the  subject  of  that  mirror,  and 
it  had  only  been  conceded  with  great 
reluctance.  The  sterner  minded  of 
Reconstitutionalists  had  strongly  op- 
posed this  aid  to  vanity,  but  an  art- 
ful and  good-looking  member  had 
suggested  they  surely  might  see  if 
their  bonnets  were  straight  without 
harm  to  the  cause.  So  the  mirror 
took  its  place  on  the  wall,  and  Mrs. 
Hex  Rashleigh  suddenly  caught  her- 
self looking  into  it  with  a  dim  sense 
of  disappointment. 

It  showed  her  a  woman  of  some 
thirty  or  more  years.  A  clear-cut, 
rather  massive  face  ;  brown  hair 
taken  severely  off  the  brow  ;  and 
dark  eyes — large,  flashing  eyes  that 
seemed  to  say,  "  Trust  me." 

Not  a  beautiful  face,  certainly  ; 
not  one  to  be  noted  where  golden 
locks  and  violet  orbs  found  favour. 
It  held  strength  and  force  instead 
of  fascination — self-will,  self-control, 
the  power  of  organisation  ;  but  one 


34  a  f)usban&  of  mo  importance 

looked  in  vain  for  tenderness,  or  that 
soft,  caressing  grace  so  essentially 
feminine. 

Perhaps  her  life  and  surroundings 
had  had  much  to  do  with  this  mas- 
culine tendency.  Her  youth  had 
been  spent  in  a  household  of  weak 
men  and  frivolous  women.  She  had 
grown  up  despising  both. 

Whatever  talents  she  possessed  had 
been  neglected  rather  than  trained, 
but  hardship  is  no  bad  forcing-house 
after  all,  and  she  had  educated  her- 
self on  good  models,  and  worked  un- 
ceasingly for  the  one  end  she  had  in 
view. 

She  was  now  thirty-three,  and  had 
achieved  much  and  hoped  for  more. 
Like  many  enthusiasts,  she  took  a 
very  one-sided  view  of  her  subject. 
Her  ambitions  were  on  a  large  scale, 
her  talents  above  the  average.  She 
rushed  at  obstacles  and  overthrew 
them  recklessly — if  possible  ;  de- 
nounced them,  if  not.  More  peo- 
ple feared  her  than  loved  her.  She 
was  so  terribly  outspoken  and  hon- 
est, that  they  shrank  from  her  de- 


a  l)usbanD  of  1*0  Importance  35 

nunciations  even  while  cultivating 
her  acquaintance. 

Society  is  thin-skinned.  It  can't 
bear  to  hear  things  called  by  their 
proper  names,  and  Mrs.  Rashleigh 
never  would  call  a  spade  an  "  imple- 
ment of  husbandry."  Very  few  men 
liked  her — married  men  especially. 
They  said  she  was  dangerous.  The 
flail  of  her  sarcasm  beat  them  into 
powder,  and  her  merciless  irony  made 
them  feel  decidedly  uncomfortable. 

They  wondered  how  any  man 
could  have  been  bold  enough  to 
marry  such  a  woman.  They  were 
sure  they  never  could  have  done 
so. 

Men  as  a  rule  make  their  own 
conception  of  the  Weaker  Sex  its 
standard  of  perfection.  When  a 
woman  answers  their  requirements 
they  are  satisfied  she  is  all  right.  It 
is  exceedingly  difficult  to  convince 
them  that  she  may  do  that  and  yet 
be  all  wrong. 

Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh — as  his  wife 
decreed  he  should  be  called,  instead 
of  by  his  baptismal  cognomen  Hes- 


36  a  1>usbanD  of  flo  ITmportance 

keth — held  that  comparatively  unim- 
portant position  in  her  life  and 
household  which  the  lawful  possessor 
of  Emancipated  Woman  is  now  des- 
tined to  hold. 

To  tell  the  simple  truth,  Mrs. 
Rashleigh  knew  very  little  about  him 
and  cared  less.  She  had  had  an 
ideal  of  manhood  in  her  girlish  days. 
It  had  been  a  combined  essence  of 
Hercules  and  Apollo,  with  a  dash  of 
King  Arthur  thrown  in  (Tennyson's 
King  Arthur,  which  is  a  sublimatised 
essence  of  the  real  thing). 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  she  had 
never  found  that  ideal.  They  don't 
walk  the  world  now.  Pot  hats, 
masher  collars,  and  burlesque  act- 
resses have  much  to  answer  for. 
They  have  made  chivalry  ludicrous 
and  picturesqueness  impossible. 

Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh  was  really  an 
excellent  man  ;  clever  too,  if  a  little 
dreamy  and  unassertive.  He  was 
very  proud  of  his  wife  and  very  fond 
of  her,  but  he  never  dared  to  tell  her 
so.  She  would  have  laughed  in  his 
face.  She  had  married  him  because 


a  twsbano  of  "Wo  importance  37 

she  felt  that  marriage  was  her  only 
chance  of  freedom  from  an  unsuit- 
able and  distasteful  environment. 
He  was  five  years  older  than  her- 
self, and  had  an  appointment  in  the 
War  Office. 

They  had  been  married  nearly  ten 
years.  Those  years  had  meant  a 
very  active  and  important  career  for 
Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh.  A  certain 
amount  of  talent  and  a  skilful  use 
of  subjects  brought  her  books  into 
quite  distinctive  notice.  She  got  to 
know  the  best  literary  and  artistic 
people  in  London,  and  life  became 
interesting  as  well  as  exciting. 

Freedom  had  been  the  ideal  of  her 
life,  and  certainly  her  husband  made 
no  claim  on  her  liberty,  and  inter- 
fered in  no  way  with  her  projects. 

He  too  had  a  club,  and  friends  of 
congenial  mind,  and  work  of  a  na- 
ture his  wife  never  guessed,  and 
would  never  have  credited  him  with 
the  ability  to  execute. 

They  were  really  almost  strangers 
to  one  another.  Ample  means  per- 
mitted the  domestic  machinery  to 


roll  smoothly,  and  when  Mrs.  Hex 
Rashleigh  was  "  at  home,"  or  dined 
any  one,  the  details  of  entertainment 
were  irreproachable. 

She  was  eccentric  in  her  dress,  but 
not  unwarrantably  so.  She  had  a 
preference  for  tailor-made  skirts  and 
coats,  because  they  were  smart,  neat, 
and  serviceable,  and  in  the  house  or 
while  working  she  wore  a  tea-gown. 

Evening-dress  she  scorned.  It 
was  immodest  and  degrading,  she 
declared ;  designed  to  allure  that 
weak  creature,  Man,  and  to  pander 
to  his  vicious  instincts.  Possessed 
of  a  beautiful  figure  and  irreproach- 
able arms,  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  never 
deigned  to  display  these  charms. 
She  was  true  to  her  principles  at  the 
cost  of  vanity. 

She  was  a  staunch  friend,  too,  to 
those  for  whom  she  cared  ;  but  to 
the  idle,  frivolous,  sensuous  members 
of  her  sex  she  presented  a  cold  and 
ironical  contempt  that  seemed  to 
crush  them  into  insignificance. 
These  were  not  popular  virtues,  and 
bore  their  own  fruit. 


a  tmgbanfc  of  "Wo  Kmportance   39 

As  she  looked  at  herself  now  in 
that  disputed  mirror  she  thought  of 
all  this,  and  thought  of  it  for  the 
first  time  with  some  instinct  of  sex. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  a 
little  sorry  that  men  did  not  like  her. 
And  yet  why  should  she  be  sorry, 
knowing  her  own  worth,  her  sterling 
virtues,  and  equally  conscious  of  the 
utter  vileness  and  silliness  and  rapac- 
ity of  the  popular  feminine  type  ? 

She  looked  at  herself  so  long,  ab- 
sorbed in  these  speculations,  that 
other  women  in  the  room  noted  it 
and  exchanged  glances  of  signifi- 
cance. 

Even  the  Emancipated  can  be  un- 
charitable— occasionally,  and  to  see 
their  leader  studying  her  own  reflec- 
tion and  idly  tracing  lines  on  a  blot- 
ting-pad, filled  them  with  wonder 
and  amusement. 

Suddenly  she  rose,  put  her  letters 
together  for  the  post,  and  thrust  her 
MSS.  into  the  drawer  of  her  table 
and  locked  it. 

The  article  for  the  Sturm  und 
Drang  was  incomplete.  For  once 


40  a  f)usban&  of  1Ro  Umportance 

in  her  life  she  had  found  it  impossi- 
ble to  bend  her  will  to  duty.  Some- 
thing had  disturbed  and  distracted 
her.  She  felt  restless,  impatient, 
angry,  and  she  had  no  reason  for 
being  so.  That  was  the  worst  of  it. 
It  made  her  irrational,  irresponsible, 
feminine — all  that  she  most  despised, 
and  had  denounced  so  often  in  lec- 
tures, articles,  and  books  ! 

She  spoke  a  few  words  to  the 
other  members  of  the  Club,  then 
left  and  called  a  hansom  and  drove 
home  to  dinner. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh, 
never  interfered  with  each  other's 
engagements,  and  rarely  inquired 
into  them. 

It  is  an  admirable  system,  and 
can  be  commended  to  all  advo- 
cates of  emancipation.  It  possesses 
only  the  trifling  drawback  that 
occasionally  husband  and  wife  may 
find  themselves  in  the  same  place 
without  previous  intimation  that 
such  a  meeting  is  probable. 

To-night  Mrs.  Rashleigh  attired 
herself  in  one  of  her  apologies  for 


a  tmsbanfc  of  flo  flmportancc  41 

evening-dress — a  tea-gown  of  rich 
oriental  brocade — and  took  herself 
off  to  the  "  Circle,"  as  she  had 
agreed  with  her  friend,  Mrs.  Des- 
pard. 

The  "  Circle "  was  a  very  re- 
markable combination  of  Talent, 
Mediocrity,  and  Celebrity-Worship. 
Originally,  it  had  been  instituted 
solely  in  favour  of  the  first-named 
possession,  but  by  degrees  it  had 
widened  and  spread  into  a  very 
large  ring  indeed.  All  sorts  of 
people  clamoured  for  election  or 
admission,  and  put  forth  strange 
pleas  for  that  purpose. 

The  writing  of  a  single  pam- 
phlet or  a  magazine  article  served 
as  the  claim  of  "  authorship." 
Publishers,  again,  were  elected 
because  the  authors  thought  it 
would  mean  better  terms  for  them- 
selves, and  that  a  general  meeting- 
place  for  the  discussion  of  Work 
might  place  such  work  on  a  more 
lucrative  footing.  Artists  who 
could  paint  and  not  get  "  hung " 
came  tripping  on  the  heels  of  ar- 


42  tl  •fcusbaiifc  of  Ho  tfmportance 

lists  who  got  "  hung  "  and  could  n't 
paint — at  least  this  was  what  they 
said  of  one  another. 

Music  had,  of  course,  its  own 
special  claims.  Besides,  it  enter- 
tained literature  on  occasions  by 
giving  gratuitous  concerts  to  which 
nobody  listened — unless  a  particu- 
lar novelty  was  introduced  such  as 
a  Whistling  Lady,  an  Infant  Phe- 
nomenon, or  a  Professor  of  Musical 
Glasses.  When  ordinary  artists 
played  or  %  sang  the  Circle  talked, 
as  if  to  show  how  superior  it  was 
to  such  trivialities. 

But  the  root  and  ground  of  the 
whole  institution  was  Literature. 
The  big  authors  with  names  and  a 
banking  account  came  here  to 
sneer  at  or  patronise  the  strugglers 
who  had  neither. 

Family  Herald  and  Temple  Bar 
looked  askance  at  one  another  ; 
Burlington  Street  and  Paternoster 
Row  reckoned  comparative  profits. 
The  writer  of  the  last  popular 
novel  and  the  author  of  the  last 
shilling  shocker  here  met  on  neu- 


tral  grounds  of  fame,  and  held  a 
court  of  special  admirers  and 
toadies.  Altogether  the  Circle  was 
a  curious  assemblage,  and  on  guest 
nights,  when  it  was  supposed  to 
entertain,  it  presented  to  the  ordi- 
nary observer  a  spectacle  that  was 
at  once  unique  and  remarkable. 

Always  on  these  occasions  the 
old  members  and  the  authenticated 
authors  drew  together  into  solid 
groups  of  severe  animadversion, 
and  asked  one  another,  "  How  on 
earth  did  he  get  here  ?  "  or  "  How 
she  became  a  member  ?  "  and  shook 
their  heads  over  a  degenerate  com- 
mittee, and  agreed  the  whole  thing 
was  going  to  the  kennels,  and  that 
it  had  been  very  different  in  their 
time,  and  that  they  should  give 
it  up. 

But  season  after  season  passed 
and  they  had  not  given  it  up,  and 
were  still  critical,  and  still  abusive. 
So  one  can  only  suppose  they  grum- 
bled on  Parliamentary  principles, 
and  with  equal  benefit  to  those  con- 
cerned. 


44  B  tmsbanD  of  "Wo  flmportance 

On  these  nights  the  Circle  was 
favoured  with  guest  tickets,  and  mem- 
bers could  bring  two  or  three  special 
friends  with  them.  This  enabled 
each  aspiring  author  to  have  his  or 
her  Court  in  attendance,  and  to 
move  about  the  large  roomy  gal- 
leries with  these  devoted  sycophants 
and  reward  them  by  pointing  out 
— Names. 

The  Court  dearly  loved  "  Names." 
It  stared  and  gasped  and  gasped  in 
wonder  when  the  ownership  of  a 
name  resolved  itself  into  an  ordi- 
nary human  being  with  the  usual 
complement  of  legs  and  arms.  It 
was  still  more  amazed  to  find  that 
even  Names  committed  few  sole- 
cisms in  the  shape  of  attire.  The 
Court  had  expected  something  dif- 
ferent. It  did  not  quite  know  what ; 
but  still  it  was  hardly  prepared  for 
dazzling  shirt  fronts,  or  satin-framed 
busts,  and  diamonds.  It  had  held 
vague  theories  concerning  unkempt 
hair,  blue  spectacles,  dirty  finger- 
nails, and  a  Jellaby  looseness  of 
garmenting  with  a  laxity  in  the 


H  f)usbanD  of  Tlo  1f mportancc  45 

matter  of  hooks  and  eyes.  It 
naturally  took  some  time  to  get 
accustomed  to  the  sight  of,  satins 
and  silks,  gorgeous  trains,  and 
sparkling  jewels. 

When  by  some  happy  chance  the 
Ideal  did  appear — correct  even  to 
the  spectacles,  towzled  hair  and  slip- 
shod petticoats — it  usually  proved  to 
be  a  guest,  or  a  struggler. 

Female  celebrity  knew  better 
than  to  hide  its  light  under  a 
bushel,  or  wear  an  ill-fitting  and 
unbecoming  gown.  Dresses  were 
an  advertisement  of  profits,  and 
publishers'  liberality.  Hence  their 
splendour. 

Into  this  queer  jumble  of  Sex 
and  Celebrity,  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh 
swept  proudly  and  alone,  asserting 
by  absence  of  escort  another  of  the 
privileges  of  emancipation. 

A  group  of  the  committee  of  the 
Circle  stood  in  the  position  of  hosts 
and  hostesses,  and  she  gave  a  gen- 
eral greeting  to  their  effusive  wel- 
come as  became  one  of  their  leading 
lights  and  show  pieces. 


46  a  twsbano  of  Ho  Umportance 

"  You  have  not  honoured  us  once 
this  season,"  gushed  a  hostess,  seiz- 
ing her  hand  and  pressing  it  warmly. 
"  We  began  to  think  you  were  going 
to  desert  us." 

"  I  've  been  busy,"  said  Mrs. 
Rashleigh  in  her  usual  curt  way. 
She  lifted  a  long-handled  eye-glass 
and  looked  at  the  crowd  round  the 
refreshment  tables.  "  I  '11  go  and 
see  the  lions  feed,"  she  said,  and 
passed  on. 

At  every  step  she  was  met  by  a 
bow,  a  smile,  an  eager  glance,  a 
word  of  greeting.  It  was  plain  that 
Mrs.  Hex  was  a  very  well-known 
person  indeed.  In  fact  it  was  popu- 
larly believed  that  she  had  been 
the  founder  of  this  remarkable  in- 
stitute. This,  however,  was  not  true. 
She  had  simply  helped  to  organise 
it,  and  then  retired  in  despair  after 
a  brief  experience  of  what  a  com- 
mittee is  capable  of. 

Shaking  herself  free  with  some 
difficulty  from  the  oppression  of 
greetings,  she  drew  her  beautiful 
artistic  draperies  slowly  through  the 


a  t>usbanJ>  of  Ho  Umportance  47 

long  tea-room.  She  was  looking  for 
Mrs.  Despard. 

Suddenly  she  stood  stock-still  as 
if  turned  to  stone.  Astonishment 
expressed  itself  without  word  or 
gesture. 

She  found  herself  confronted  by 
two  men,  engaged  in  eager  conver- 
sation. One  was  her  acquaintance 
of  that  afternoon.  The  other — her 
own  husband. 


IV. 

A    BATTLE    OF    OPINIONS. 

WHO    is    that     lady  ? "  asked 
Blake     Beverley,  arresting 
his  companion's  attention. 
Mr.  Hex    Rashleigh  peered   with 
his    short-sighted    eyes     and     then 
smiled  amusedly. 

"That— is  my  wife."  He  ad- 
vanced a  few  steps  and  spoke  to  her. 
"  I  wish  I  had  known  you  were  com- 
ing. We  could  have  driven  down 
together,"  he  remarked.  "  Are  you 
alone  ?  .  Shall  I  find  you  a 

seat  ?" 

"Thanks — I'll  stay  here,"  she 
said,  sinking  into  one  of  the  velvet 
divans  placed  here  and  there.  Then 
in  a  lower  key,  "  Who  is  your 
friend  ?" 

48 


a  f>usbano  of  "Wo  importance  49 

"  Oh  !  young  Beverley.  Don't 
you  know  him  ?  Shall  I  introduce 
him  ! " 

"  Yes  ;  I  met  him  this  afternoon." 

In  another  moment  she  had  signi- 
fied that  the  handsome  Irishman 
might  take  a  seat  beside  her.  In 
two,  she  had  intimated  to  her  hus- 
band that  he  was  de  trap. 

He  was  far  too  admirably  drilled 
not  to  understand  this  hint,  and  he 
drifted  off  to  another  part  of  the 
galleries  where  these  reunions  took 
place. 

"  Odd,  our  meeting  again  like 
this,"  remarked  the  Irishman.  "  I 
had  no  idea  who  you  were  this  after- 
noon. I  've  known  your  husband 
some  time.  Awfully  clever,  is  n't 
he?" 

"  Clever  ? "  Mrs.  Rashleigh  opened 
her  handsome  eyes  in  genuine  as- 
tonishment. Then  she  remembered 
degrees  of  comparison.  Perhaps 
Hex  Rashleigh  did  seem  clever  to 
an  Irishman  who  had  n't  a  soul 
above  Lever,  and  liked — recitations. 

"I'm   glad    you    think    so,"  she 


said.  "  He  has  n't  given  the  world, 
or  myself,  that  opinion." 

"  No  ?  .  .  .  Well,  he  's  one  of 
those  quiet,  retiring  sort  of  fellows 
who  see  and  do  a  great  deal  more 
than  people  suppose.  But  I  forgot 
— you  write  books." 

"  Does  that  pre-suppose  incapac- 
ity of  judgment  ? "  she  asked  sar- 
castically. 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  Only  authors  are 
such  a  dreamy,  preoccupied  race. 
They  have  so  much  to  do  with  their 
imaginary  characters  that  they  over- 
look real  ones — close  at  hand." 

"  The  Modern  Man,"  said  Mrs. 
Rashleigh,  incisively,  "  presents  few 
traits  of  character  that  are  worth 
writing  about.  He  is  an  epitome  of 
folly  and  selfishness,  the  outcome  of 
a  vicious  past,  the  shame  of  a  terrible 
present  !  If  he  ever  has  a  future  of 
any  worth,  he  will  owe  it  to  the  re- 
generating power  of — Woman." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Blake  Beverley,  his 
eyes  sparkling  with  delight.  "  Now 
I  know  your  vocation.  You  are  one 
of  the  New  Women.  Aren't  you? 


a  t>usban£>  of  Ho  importance  51 

How  jolly  !  I  've  longed  to  meet 
one.  Do  let  's  have  it  out.  These 
grievances  of  your  sex  against  ours. 
What 's  the  reason  of  it  all,  and  what 
do  you  all  want  ?  " 

"  We  want,"  said  Mrs.  Rashleigh, 
"  Men — not  brutes  ;  mental  intelli- 
gence properly  applied.  We  want 
equal  freedom  —  equal  rights.  We 
want  to  abolish  the  slavish  subjec- 
tion of  sex  to  sex,  and  stand  alone — 
free — untrammelled — to  make  our 
own  laws  and  live  our  own  lives." 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  to  do 
that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  will  be  a  work  of  time,  and  it 
won't  be  easy,"  she  answered. 
"  But  we  shall  do  it — in  the  end. 
The  battle  has  begun  ;  it  needs 
courage,  industry,  and  devotion, 
and  we  have  to  fight  against  traitors 
on  our  own  side,  and  tyrants  on 
yours.  Still  .  .  .  we  shall  win." 

"  I  hope  not,"  he  said  coolly.  "  I 
think  you  'd  make  an  awful  mess  of 
things  if  you  did — besides  taking 
away  half  of  our  burdens  and  most 
of  our  fun  !  " 


52  a  IbusbanO  of  1Ro  Umportance 

"  Fun  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rash- 
leigh,  indignantly.  "  Yes,  that  is 
your  sole  idea  of  life.  Look  at  the 
present-day  youth  !  Can  anything 
be  more  detestable  ?  Your  very 
press  scoures  him  almost  daily.  His 
morality  is  that  of  the  monkey  ;  his 
tastes  that  of  the  "  Coster,"  on  whom 
he  seems  to  mould  himself  ;  his  life 
a  living  disgrace,  and  his  death 
usually  a  scandal  !  I  'm  not  speak- 
ing of  types,  but  of  the  Creature 
itself  .  .  .  the  creature  to  whom 
we  are  condemned  to  act  as  mothers 
— the  wretched  result  of  past  ages  of 
man's  immorality  and  our  defence- 
lessness  !  " 

"  That 's  very  strong,"  said  the 
young  Irishman.  "  It  would  n't 
have  occurred  to  me  to  look  at  it  in 
that  light.  Ibsenish,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  light  of  Common  Sense 
and  Truth,"  flashed  Mrs.  Rashleigh, 
angrily. 

"  No  doubt  ;  but  still,  I  can't  see 
the  remedy.  You  can  never  make  the 
world  of  one  pattern.  There  will 
always  be  good  and  bad,virtuous,  and 


U  f>u0banJ>  of  flo  Importance  53 

vicious,  rich  and  poor.  Besides, 
sinners  are  rather  interesting.  What 
would  the  clergy  do  without  them  ? 
And  if  we  were  all  good,  what  would 
there  be  to  talk  about  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  jesting,"  said  Mrs. 
Rashleigh.  "  I  consider  this  is  a 
serious  and  sacred  subject." 

"  It  is,"  he  agreed — "  very.  And 
do  you  write  on  it,  and  lecture  on  it, 
and  all  that  ?  No  wonder  you 
have  n't  had  time  to  find  out  whether 
your  husband  is  clever  or  not." 

"  We  hold  such  different  opinions," 
said  Mrs.  Rashleigh,  coldly,  "  that  I 
think  we  had  better  drop  this  dis- 
cussion." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  he  said 
eagerly.  "  Let  me  tell  you  how 
astonished  I  was  to  meet  you  here. 
Are  you  a  member,  or  a  guest  ?  " 

"  The  former.  I  was  one  of  the 
prime  movers  in  its  formation." 

"  Were  you  really  ?  Had  it  any 
special  purpose  ? " 

"  It  was  intended  as  a  meeting- 
place  for  workers.  Art  and  litera- 
ture and  science  were  alone  eligible 


54  a  1>u8ban&  of  mo  tFmportance 

for  membership.  And  look  at  it — 
now." 

"Well,"  he  said,  laughing.  "It's 
a  hotch-potch  of  all  sorts,  is  n't  it  ? 
But  that 's  the  way  with  most 
women's  clubs  and  societies.  Some- 
how they  never  hang  together,  and 
generally  develop  into  rowdyism." 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  flushed 
angrily. 

"  I  really  do  think,"  she  said, 
"  that  you  are  the  very  rudest  young 
man " 

"  But  I  'm  only  meeting  you  on 
your  own  grounds,"  he  said  coolly. 
"  Talking  to  you  and  treating  you  as 
I  would  a  man.  Is  n't  that  what 
you  want  ?  " 

She  bit  her  lip  in  pure  feminine 
vexation.  Twice  to-day  had  this 
impertinent  Hibernian  succeeded  in 
disturbing  her  usual  serenity.  No 
man  had  ever  spoken  to  her  as  he 
did.  Yet  she  could  not  say  he  was 
discourteous.  Only — well,  if  a  man 
is  remarkably  good-looking,  and  a 
woman  feels  an  interest  in  him,  it  is 


a  f>u8ban6  of  1fto  ITmportancc  55 

not  quite  pleasant  to  be  treated  as  if 
she  were  only  a  schoolgirl  or  a  fool. 

"Arejou  a  member?"  she  asked, 
waiving  the  question  of  manly  cour- 
tesy. 

"  No  ;  I  Ve  often  been  asked  to 
join,  but  I  can  always  get  a  guest 
ticket,  so  I  Ve  not  bothered  about 
it.  Besides,  I  haven't  too  many 
guineas  to  throw  away." 

"  Then  you  do  something  ? "  she 
exclaimed  eagerly. 

"  I  'm  an  actor.  Are  you  inter- 
ested in  that  line  of  business  ?  " 

"  I  'm  interested  in  any  profession 
that  is  intellectual  or  useful.  .  .  . 
I  don't  seem  to  know  your  name 
though.  And  yet  I  rarely  miss  a 
first  night." 

"  My  first  night  has  yet  to  '  come 
off  '  in  London.  I  Ve  only  done  the 
provinces  as  yet.  It 's  a  fine  school 
though.  I  look  upon  it  as  the  best 
friend  and  the  best  trainer  of  Am- 
bitious Youth  and  aspiring  Irvings." 

"  I  thought  you  told  me  you  were 
a  singer  this  afternoon  ? " 


$6  &  tmsbano  of  Ho  importance 

"  No  ;  I  only  said  Madam  Rosen- 
berg had  heard  me  sing." 

"  How  did  things  go  on  there,  by 
the  way  ?  Was  the  Bird  of  Prey 
rapacious  ?" 

"  How  hard  you  are  on  your  sex. 
She  was  very  charming.  She  asked 
me  to  meet  her  here  to-night." 

"  Indeed.     Am  I  detaining  you  ? " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  'd  rather  talk  to 
you.  You  're  more  interesting." 

Again  that  silly  feminine  flush 
coloured  Mrs.  Rashleigh's  face.  The 
blue  eyes  looked  with  warm  admira- 
tion into  the  brown  ones.  She  found 
herself  wondering  if  they  were  truth- 
ful. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  my 
husband  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  How  long  ?  .  .  .  Well,  I  met 
him  first  when  I  was  on  tour.  We 
were  doing  '  The  Rivals.'  He  took 
a  fancy  to  my  Captain  Absolute. 
We  knocked  up  an  acquaintance,  and 
since  then  we  've  not  lost  sight  of 
each  other." 

"Oh!  .  .  ."  said  Mrs.  Rash- 
leigh,  "  I  should  not  have  thought 


a  f)u0ban&  of  tto  importance  57 

you  would  have  much  in  common. 
My  husband  takes  little  interest  in 
theatrical  matters." 

Blake  Beverley  stared  at  her  a 
moment.  Then  an  odd  expression 
came  into  his  face.  "  I  suppose,"  he 
said  caustically,  "  the  Modern  Wife 
does  not  take  much  interest  in  the 
doings  of  the  obsolete  husband.  He 
is  of  no  importance  to  her.  I  won- 
der why  she  marries  at  all  ?  House- 
hold affairs  are  beneath  her  notice. 
Maternity  is  a  distasteful  obligation. 
In  her  clamour  for  publicity  she  is 
oblivious  of  the  wide  area  of  private 
life  where  her  influence  and  example 
might  really  be  of  use.  Well,  my 
remedy  would  be — '  Give  her  her 
head,  and  let  her  prove  for  herself 
that  she  is  making  a  vast  mistake.' 
The  majority  of  women  are  created 
feminine  by  nature.  For  God's  sake 
leave  them  so.  They  will  be  far 
happier — and  of  far  greater  use." 

"  You  use  a  man's  selfish  argu- 
ments," said  Mrs.  Rashleigh,  con- 
scious of  a  little  prick  of  discomfort 
under  her  panoply  of  assurance  : 


"  the  arguments  of  generations  of 
your  sex  who  have  considered  it 
their  duty  to  suppress  and  ill-use 
ours." 

"  I  think  it  is  greatly  your  own 
fault  if  you  have  been  ill-used,"  he 
said.  "  I  can  answer  for  my  coun- 
trymen, I  know.  They  have  far  too 
high  an  opinion  of  women  to  play 
the  part  of  brute,  or  tyrant.  Of 
course  I  'm  speaking  of  intelligent, 
decent-minded  men.  I  hope  they're 
not  as  rare  as  you  seem  to  imagine." 

"  I  fancy  they  are,"  said  his  op- 
ponent, obstinately.  "  Judging  from 
what  I  have  heard  and  seen  .  . 
the  unfortunate  victims  of  marriage 
and  debauchery  have  certainly  little 
to  thank  your  sex  for.  Your  one 
aim  has  been  to  keep  women  in 
ignorance  and  then  abuse  her  for 
it." 

"  That 's  such  a  stale  old  cry.  Any 
woman  who  had  ability  could  always 
use  it,  if  she  was  determined  to 
learn.  Even  as  far  back  as  the  days 
of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  she  could  do  so 
without  a  man  stopping  her.  The 


B  f>usban&  of  Ho  ITmportance  59 

truth  is  the  majority  of  women  have 
never  possessed  any  great  mental 
gifts.  The  exceptions  have  been 
small — but,  I  grant  you,  remarkable. 
It  is  not  want  of  opportunity,  but 
want  of  ability,  that  has  kept  women 
in  the  background.  Even  now, 
among  all  the  Screamers  and  Clam- 
ourers,  how  rare  it  is  to  find  a  really 
clever  or  rational  one.  If  a  woman 
wants  to  do  real  good  to  her  race, 
and  earn  the  thanks  of  future  gene- 
rations, let  her  undertake  the  guid- 
ance of  childhood,  and  teach  her 
sons  truthfulness,  honour,  and  self- 
respect.  She  can  do  this  better  than 
any  man.  It 's  a  pity  she  does  n't 
try." 

"  She  has  tried,  and  broken  her 
heart  over  failures,  the  result  of  ex- 
ample and  of  tyrannical  laws.  The 
rights  of  the  father  are  alone  re- 
spected. His  faults  are  condoned, 
where  her's  are  pilloried." 

"  Better  so  than  the  reverse  side 
of  the  picture.  Even  law-makers 
have  a  high  standard  of  Female  "mo- 
rality." 


"  We  are  drifting  back  into  an  old 
controversy.  How  is  it  you  know  so 
much  about  this  matter  ?  " 

He  laughed.  "  Oh,  I  've  learnt  a 
lot  from  your  husband,"  he  said. 

"  My  husband  !  "  Mrs.  Rashleigh 
looked  at  him  with  polite  incredulity. 
"  Do  you  really  mean  to  say  he  talks 
on  the  subject  ? " 

"  I  should  say  he  had  very  good 
cause  to  do  so,  considering  he  is  one 
of  the  sufferers." 

She  flushed  to  her  temples.  "  I 
have  already  had  reason  to  remark 
on  your  manners,  Mr.  Beverley.  I 
was  not  aware  I  had  had  the  honour 
of  being  discussed  in  my  relative  po- 
sitions of  wife  and  housekeeper,  by 
you  and  Mr.  Rashleigh." 

"  You  don't  like  the  idea,"  he  said, 
coolly.  "  But,  as  I  said  before,  if 
you  claim  equal  rights  with  man 
you  '11  have  to  put  up  with  very  dif- 
ferent treatment.  He  won't  make 
you  pretty  speeches  or  show  you  any 
particular  attentions.  You  '11  have  to 
rough  it  like  himself.  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  '11  like  it,  but — excuse  my 


a  1ni6ban&  of  mo  flmportance  61 

saying  so — you  will  have  brought  it 
on  yourselves." 

"  I  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Rashleigh, 
wrathfully,  "  that  we  will  be  able  to 
teach  him  what  we  expect — and  to 
get  it,  too.  .  .  .  But  there  is 
my  friend  Mrs.  Despard,  looking  at 
us.  I  promised  to  meet  her  here." 

"  Then,"  he  said,  rising  at  once, 
"  I  must  not  usurp  your  society  any 
longer.  I  hope  we  '11  be  none  the 
.worse  friends  because  of  this  bat- 
tle ?  " 

The  voice  was  so  coaxing,  the  blue 
eyes  so  resistless,  htr  wrath  melted 
at  once. 

"  Indeed,  no,"  she  said  warmly. 
"  Come  and  see  me  whenever  you 
like.  On  Sundays  I  "m  always  at 
home." 

"  I  shall  remember  that,"  he  said, 
and  with  a  courteous  bow  he  moved 
aside  to  make  room  for  the  pretty 
little  Fashion  Plate  who  had  ap- 
proached. 


V. 

THREE    TYPES. 

YOUR  friend  of  this  afternoon, 
was  n't  it,  Marion  ?"    asked, 
Mrs.  Despard,  fluttering  her 
laces,  flowers,  and  draperies  in  a  per- 
fumed cloud  about  the  velvet  divan. 
"  Yes.     Odd  we  should  meet  again 
— so  soon." 

"  Not  a  case  of  Affinities,  I 
hope  ?"  laughed  the  pretty  Fashion 
Plate,  giving  a  touch  to  the  balloon- 
like  expansion  on  either  side  her 
corsage  which  la  mode  calls  "  sleeves." 
Mrs.  Rashleigh  frowned.  She 
never  permitted  jests  on  moral  sub- 
jects. 

"  I  find  he  knows  my  husband." 
she   said,  "  and  that  he  is  an  actor." 
"  An  actor,  and  a  friend  of  Mr. 
62 


B  fjusbanD  of  flo  ITmportance  63 

Rashleigh's  ?  Why,  I  thought  he 
was  always  buried  in  pamphlets  and 
estimates  of  expenditure,  and  costs 
of  armaments,  and  things  of  that 
sort  ! " 

"  I  suppose  he  has  time  to  culti- 
vate a  stray  friendship.  Besides,  he 
belongs  to  a  club." 

"  Oh,  a  Savage,  I  suppose  ?  That 
would  account  for  it." 

"  I  really  don't  know,  I  never 
asked.  But  it  could  n't  be  the  Sav- 
age. He  has  n't  the  qualifications." 

"  Well,  look  at  this.  Where  do  the 
qualifications  come  in  ?  I  confess  I 
don't  see  them."  She  glanced 
around  and  rattled  on.  "  There  's 
the  Scandalton  group !  Did  n't  I 
tell  you  they  'd  be  here  ?  And  ob- 
serve the  Anglo-Indian  contingent. 
.  .  .  That  tall,  stout  woman,  with 
the  suspiciously  black  hair,  is  one  of 
the  most  notorious  scandal-mongers. 
Nothing  escapes  her.  I  'm  always 
expecting  she  '11  be  brought  to  book 
for  libel.  That  's  a  colonel's  wife, 
that  little  fair  woman.  She 's  nearer 
sixty  than  forty,  and  look  at  her ! 


64  a  twsbano  of  Bo  Umportance 

White  satin  and  pearls.  Is  n't  it 
touching.  .  .  .  Oh,  do  you  see 
Mrs.  Prancer  ?  There,  in  daffodil 
satin.  What  a  gown.  She  's  had 
two  husbands,  and  now  she  's  like 
the  Woman  of  Samaria.  He  whom 
she  has,  is  not  her  husband.  But 
he  's  going  to  be.  So  that  's  all 
right." 

"  My  dear  Tina,  your  tongue  runs 
away  with  you,"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Rashleigh.  "  Surely,  she  would  n't 
be  here  if  .  .  .  if  that  was  true." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  could — and  is,  you 
see.  It 's  not  generally  known,  and 
she  thinks  it  safe.  Gracious  !  how 
do  people  speak  to  that  dreadful 
women,  Zamoretti — though  she  has 
secured  a  husband  at  last  !  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  mountain  of  flesh  ? 
Looks  as  if  she  'd  been  melted  into 
that  gown  and  then  let  stand.  Her 
shoulders  and  arms  wouldn't  dis- 
grace a  skirt-dancer's — limbs  !  We 
all  say  limbs,  now,  you  know.  It 
sounds  so  much  more  modest.  Do 
you  think  ordinary  cotton  keeps  those 
seams  together  ? " 


21  tmsbanfc  of  1Ro  Umportance  65 

"  What  a  rattle  you  are,  Tina," 
said  Mrs.  Rashleigh,  rebukingly. 

"  I  know.  I  'rn  only  shallow,  and 
so  I  must  make  a  noise  somehow. 
Really  this  place  gets  funnier  and 
funnier.  It  '11  be  a  show  to  bring 
country  cousins  to,  soon.  What  a 
crowd.  Let 's  sit  here  and  criticise." 

"  You  mean  scandalise,  and  that 's 
not  in  my  line." 

"  No,  but  it 's  in  mine.  So  be  dear, 
and  let  me  enjoy  myself.  There  's 
material  here  for  three  vol.  novels, 
is  n't  there  ?  Those  two  men  are 
talking  theosophy,  and  wondering 
what  the  society  will  do  without  '  H. 
P.  B.'  That  little  man  is  Mediocre, 
the  artist.  He  and  his  wife  are 
always  here — Jewish,  I  fancy,  judging 
from  the  nose.  What  is  the  sign 
manual  of  Israel  ?  I  can  never  be 
quite  sure  if  it 's  eyes  or  nose,  or  a 
combination  of  both.  Anyhow  one 
can't  mistake.  .  .  .  There 's  the 
little  woman  who  recited  this  after- 
noon. What  a  pity  some  one  does  n't 
do  her  hair  for  her  !  .  .  .  That 's 
an  Irishman  with  her — he  is  awful 

5 


66  a  DusbanD  of  flo  importance 

fun,  and  sings  rather  well.  Those 
three  old  maids  are  always  here. 
Cotton-back  velvets  and  fakes. 
.  .  .  They  come  by  omnibus  and 

leave  hats  in  the  cloak  room 

It 's  funny,  is  n't  it  ?  ...  Farce, 
Tragedy,  Comedy,  and  Common 
Sense.  You  represent  Common  Sense, 
Marion." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  'm  Farce,  I  suppose.  I  never 
was  sensible.  I  only  look  on  and 
enjoy  and  frivol.  After  all,  some 
one  must  frivol.  We  can't  all  be 
sensible.' 

"  It 's  women  like  you,  Tina,  who 
are  at  once  the  despair  and  ruination 
of  our  movement." 

"  Yes,  dear  ;  I  know.  You  've  told 
me  that  before.  I  'm  sorry — but  how 
can  I  help  it  ?  As  Topsy  says,  '  I 
'spects  I  growed  so.'  There  are 
always  the  bees  and  the  butterflies, 
you  know.  One  has  to  put  up  with 
them.  They  can't  amalgamate  ;  but 
each  has  their  use.  When  I  write 
my  book  I  shall  divide  my  characters 
into  classes,  and  they  can  be  comic 


a  'fcusbanD  of  Ho  Umportance  67 

or  dramatic,  as  they  please.  I  believe 
in  contrasts,  as  I  told  you  to-day. 
The  more  bizarre  the  better.  Fate 
has  been  awfully  kind  to  me.  I  've 
never  had  any  real  trouble.  .  .  . 
Even  when  poor  dear  Despard  died, 
he  did  it  so  nicely — -away  from  home, 
and  all  arrangements  by  telegram. 
I  know  it  sounds  heartless — but  he 
was  nearly  eighty  ;  and  if  one  be- 
lieves one  thing  in  the  Bible,  one 
must  believe  all.  So  he  had  rather 
over-fulfilled  his  regulation  period. 
It  is  really  nice  to  be  rich  and  free, 
and  do  exactly  what  you  please.  Of 
course,  if  I  was  a  grave,  sensible 
person  like  you,  I  "d  have  a  mission. 
But  then  I  'm  not  sensible,  and 
missions  would  only  bore  me.  How 
do  you  like  my  gown  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rashleigh's  lip  took  an  added 
curl  of  contempt. 

"It's  ridiculous,  and  I  should 
think  uncomfortable  ;  but  you  look 
very  pretty." 

"  How  sweet  of  you  to  say  so  ! 
Yes  ...  I  confess  I  'd  like  half 
an  inch  more  breathing  space ; 


68  a  Dusbanfc  of  Ho  ITmportance 

but  how  would  I  look  with  a  waist 
of  twenty  ;  I  'm  not  a  grand,  fine 
creature  like  you  !  You  big  women 
will  never  understand  what  your 
small-built  sisters  have  to  under- 
go. You  can  wear  anything,  and 
we — well,  very  little.  I  don't  mean 
in  covering,  .  .  .  but  in  length, 
breadth,  and  general  contour.  Even 
high  heels  don't  help  us  much. 
And  now,  tell  me,  what 's 
your  new  friend  like  ?  Was  it 
'  shop  '  ?  " 

"  My  '  shop,'  if  any.  He  favoured 
me  with  his  opinions  respecting  the 
Modern  Woman  and  her  efforts  at 
progress." 

Veloutine  laughed. 

"  How  funny  !  And  you  put  on 
the  gloves,  of  course.  I  wish  I  had 
been  there  as  bottle-holder " 

"  My  dear  Tina,  I  can  stand 
slander,  but  spare  me  slang  !  " 

"  Milles  pardonnes  .     .     .  I  forgot. 

But  you  don't  mean  to  say  an  actor 

talked     Emancipation.     .     .     .     No 

wonder   he 's   off   to    Mrs.    Loosely. 

.  Look  at  them." 


&  IbusbanD  of  tto  Umportance  69 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  did  look.  Indeed, 
her  eyes  had  wandered  already  to 
that  divan  where  a  prominent  bust, 
crossed  legs,  and  Louis  Quatorze 
shoes  were  points  of  interest  to  male 
passers-by.  Mrs.  Loosely  was  in  great 
form.  She  wore  black  velvet  cut  en- 
cceur  and  en  "  spine."  Her  towsled 
hair  was  fresh  from  the  touch-up  of 
peroxide  and  the  judicious  wave  of 
curling  irons.  Her  small  eyes  were 
carefully  darkened ;  her  strident 
voice  and  jingling  laughter  struck 
sharply  on  the  ear. 

But  she  was  quite  happy.  She 
flattered  herself  she  had  made  a  new 
conquest  ;  and  she  dearly  loved 
Hibernians.  She  had  known  several 
in  her  time,  and  they  had  carried  out 
the  legend  of  the  Blarney  Stone  de- 
lightfully. 

No  one  discerns  feminine  weak- 
ness so  quickly  as  an  Irishman.  On 
the  other  hand,  no  one  plays  up  to  it 
so  successfully. 

Blake  Beverley  was  allowing  him- 
self to  be  made  love  to  in  the  most 
appreciative  fashion,  out  of  sheer 


70  a  f>usban&  of  Ho  importance 

mischief  and  a  little  curiosity  to  see 
how  far  the  modesty  of  the  Modern 
Englishwoman  allows  her  to  go. 

He  had  had  a  varied  experience 
of  it.  Mrs.  Loosely  was  inclined  to 
offer  him  another  instalment. 

She  was  one  of  those  women  who 
are  of  no  particular  age  after  thirty. 
She  had  an  insignificant  husband,  a 
daughter  at  a  boarding-school,  and  a 
son  in  Germany.  She  also  possessed 
ample  means,  and  a  desire  towards 
youthful  conquests.  She  generally 
annexed  some  young  man  and  kept 
him  in  her  train  for  a  period,  varying 
with  his  patience  or  her  liberality. 

While  the  "  annexation  "  lasted  the 
favourite  was  supposed  to  dance  con- 
stant attendance  on  the  lady  ;  to  be 
her  escort  to  every  place,  or,  as  she 
termed  it,  "  show,"  where  she  elected 
to  display  her  gowns  and  scandalise 
her  hostess  ;  and  hint  illnatured 
things  of  every  woman  prettier 
or  more  popular  than  herself.  Few 
people  liked  her — all  distrusted  her 
— and  yet  she  was  received  and  in- 
vited into  the  shadow  of  respec- 


fl  twsbanb  of  Ho  importance  71 

lability  because  she  had  not  yet 
committed  the  glaring  indiscretion 
of  being  "  found  out." 

In  that  curious  section  of  society 
which  hovers  on  the  confines  of  the 
Real  Thing  and  the  "  Unknowable," 
Mrs.  Loosely  frisked  and  capered  to 
her  heart's  content.  Her  husband 
was  complaisant,  and  indeed  really 
grateful  sometimes  to  the  callow  idiot 
who  thought  it  "  life  "  to  be  playing 
amateur  Lovelace,  little  fancying  he 
was  conferring  an  obligation  as  well 
as  incurring  a  risk. 

The  last  annexation  had  just 
developed  "  temper."  He  was  sick 
of  the  business,  and  said  so.  He 
called  it  "  rot,"  which  was  vulgar,  if 
truthful.  A  month  before  it  had 
been  "  ripping  " — equally  vulgar,  but 
not  so  truthful.  Mrs.  Loosely  was 
therefore  in  that  frame  of  mind 
which  enables  wounded  vanity  to  ac- 
cept balm  in  the  shape  of  new  con- 
solation. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  the 
person  she  selected  for  the  office  of 
Consoler  might  have  an  objection  to 


72  B  twsbanD  of  1Ro  Ifmportance 

fulfil  that  duty  ;  as  a  rule,  she  gave 
the  hint — more  or  less  broadly — and 
the  annexation  was  soon  effected. 

Her  conversation  was  somewhat 
different  to  that  of  Mrs.  Rashleigh. 
It  consisted  in  second-rate  witticisms, 
sneers,  and  scandals,  interlarded  with 
descriptions  of  her  gowns  and  la- 
ments over  the  dressmaker's  failings. 

"  I  like  a  man's  work  so  much 
better,"  she  was  saying,  "  but  they  're 
so  horribly  expensive." 

"  Are  they?  "  said  Blake  Beverley, 
vaguely.  He  was  not  yet  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  "  man  "  mil- 
liners and  millinery.  Neither  was 
he  aware  that  his  predecessor  had 
absolutely  declined  to  pay  a  bill  to 
one  of  these  individuals,  although  he 
had  introduced  Mrs.  Loosely  to  their 
favourable  notice.  She  was  still  smart- 
ing under  this  trial,  and  tingling  with 
a  vivid  remembrance  of  "  home- 
truths  "  uttered  in  the  row-royal 
that  the  bill  had  occasioned. 

She  wondered  what  young  Bev- 
erley's  income  was.  He  looked  such 
good  style  .  .  .  Guards,  or  some- 


thing  of  that  sort.  He  had  not  told 
her  his  particular  profession  or  call- 
ing— only  complimented  her  on  "  per- 
spicuity "  when  she  had  said,  "  I  'm 
sure  you  're  in  the  army." 

"  I  saw  you  talking  to  that  extra- 
ordinary creature,  Mrs.  Hex  Rash- 
leigh,"  she  remarked  at  length. 

"  Do  you  know  her  ? "  asked 
Blake  Beverley. 

"  Oh  !  good  gracious — no  !  "  she 
cried,  with  animation.  "I  couldn't, 
you  know.  She  's  too  utterly  dread- 
ful !  Goes  about  lecturing,  and  rails 
against  men  and  society,  and  all 
that.  One  of  the  New  Women, 
you  know." 

"  I  am  surprised  she  comes  to  a 
place  like  this,"  said  the  Irishman. 

"  Why,  what 's  the  matter  with 
the  place?"  asked  his  companion, 
sharply.  "  The  very  best  people 
come  here,  I  can  tell  you.  I  've 
met  quite  the  smart  set  at  times." 

"  No  doubt  ;  but  Mrs.  Rashleigh 
seems  rather  above,  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  Oh  !    the  best   people  would  n't 


74  S  tmsbanS  of  Ifto  Importance 

take  her  up.  She  's  impossible.  Al- 
ways slanging  women  for  what  they 
do,  and  men  for  what  they  don't. 
I  pity  her  husband." 

"  Oh !  he  only  shares  the  com- 
mon lot  of  the  modern  husband. 
They  '11  soon  die  out,  or — go  to 
Turkey.  Do  you  possess  such  an 
appendage  ?  " 

She  laughed  airily. 

"  Of  course  ;  you  did  n't  fancy  I 
was — unappropriated,  did  you  ?  " 

"  It 's  difficult  to  know  what  wo- 
men are,  or  are  not,  in  the  present 
day,"  he  said  coolly.  "  I  'm  always 
coming  upon  surprises." 

"  Well,  I  'm  not  hard  to  under- 
stand," she  said,  with  a  killing  glance. 
"  I  've  no  vocation.  I  like  to  enjoy 
life  and  see  others  enjoy  it.  I  get 
plenty  of  fun  out  of  it,  and  I  don't 
ask  more." 

"  Ah  !  that 's  kind  of  you  to  in- 
terpret for  me.  The  other  night  a 
woman  told  me  one  had  to  be  '  not 
too  bad,  but  just  bad  enough,'  in 
order  to  be  a  success.  I  'm  getting 
enlightened  by  degrees." 


H  t>usban&  of  tto  flmportance  75 

"  As  if  men  ever  needed  enlight- 
enment," said  Mrs.  Loosely.  "  They 
take  our  measure  very  correctly, 
I  'm  sure." 

"  Literature  seems  well  represented 
to-night,"  he  said  irrelevantly.  "  I  've 
seen  three  of  our  leading  novelists 
already." 

"Oh,  I  hate  literary  people," 
she  exclaimed  pettishly,  annoyed 
that  the  conversation  should  drift 
from  personalities.  "  They  're  so 
horribly  conceited  and  self-con- 
scious, and  expect  you  to  remember 
all  the  books  they  've  written.  And 
their  conversation  is  sure  to  be 
larded  with  quotations  or  references 
to  things  one  has  never  heard  of. 
They  ought  to  keep  to  themselves, 
and  not  mix  with  society  at  all." 

"  I  have  heard,"  he  said  drily, 
"  that  they  started  this  club  with 
that  intention,  but  society  insisted 
on  intruding.  I  came  here  to-night 
feeling  quite  an  interloper." 

"  The  idea  !  .  .  .  I  'm  sure  you 
would  be  welcome  anywhere.  When 
will  you  come  and  see  me  ?  Don't 


76  a  twsbano  of  Ifto  Importance 

say  it  is  too  far.  A  hansom  will 
bring  you  in  fifteen  minutes." 

"  Not  from  where  I  live,"  he  said 
gravely. 

"  Why  ?  .  .  .  Where  is  that  ?  " 

"  Bloomsbury,"  he  answered. 

"  Nonsense.  ...  I  thought  you 
were  in  the  Guards." 

He  laughed  aloud.  "  No,  I  'm 
only  '  Captain  Absolute '  of  the 
'  Sheridan  Co.,"  .  .  .  recently  pro- 
moted to  the  London  stage." 

"An "actor!  .  .  .  How  delightful. 
But  what  a  sad  tease  you  are.  You 
quite  mystified  me.  Oh,  I  love  your 
profession  above  all  things  !  I  've 
done  a  little  in  that  line  myself.  I 
delight  in  getting  up  theatricals. 
You  '11  come  and  help  me  next  time, 
won't  you  ? " 

"  Delighted,  if  I  can  spare  the 
time.  But  a  struggling  actor's  life  is 
not  his  own,  you  know.  He  is  at 
the  beck  and  call  of  managers,  and 
they  are  apt  to  be  exacting." 

"  Are  you  in  any  special  show 
now  ? " 

"  No,  only  rehearsing  a  new  piece. 


a  twsbanD  of  Ho  importance  77 

Charley  Wilton  has  taken  a  fancy  to 
bring  it  out.  I  call  it  splendid, 
though  the  author  is  quite  unknown. 
I  expect  it  will  take  London  by 
storm." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  it  ?  " 

"  A  secret,  like  that  of  the  author. 
He  is  mbdest  and  distrustful.  If  a 
woman  had  written  anything  half  as 
good  it  would  have  been  town  talk 
by  this  time." 

"  And  have  you  a  good  part  ? " 

"  Splendid.  I  feel  grateful  to  the 
writer  every  time  I  rehearse." 

"  You  might  give  me  a  hint  who 
it  is,"  insinuated  Mrs.  Loosely,  with 
the  look  that  she  believed  to  be 
irresistible.  "  I  promise  to  keep  it 
a  secret." 

He  laughed.  ''  Don't  you  know 
a  secret  shared  by  a  third  person 
ceases  to  be  a  secret.  .  .  .  Women 
may  not  think  so,  but  men  know  it." 

"  You  are  rather  hard  on  our  sex," 
said  Mrs.  Loosely,  with  a  pout. 
"Surely  they  can't  have  taught  you 
to  distrust  them.  I  fancy  you  could 
be  irresistible — if  you  chose." 


78  a  f>u0bano  of  "Wo  importance 

"No  doubt,"  he  answered,  with 
equanimity.  "  But,  you  see,  women 
nowadays  don't  care  to  be  made  love 
to.  They  prefer  to  smoke  cigarettes 
and  talk  of  '  equality  of  the  sexes.'  " 
He  half  rose  then.  "  If  you  will 
pardon  my  desertion  I  must  rejoin 
the  friend  who  brought  me  here.  .  .  . 
He  is  looking  so  forlorn." 

"  Het"  inquired  Mrs.  Loosely, 
archly. 

"  Yes  ;  I  mean  Mr.  Hex  Rash- 
leigh,"  he  said. 


VI. 

SOME    REFLECTIONS,    AND    A    RESULT. 

MRS.  HEX  RASHLEIGH  went 
home  to  her  flat  in  a  very  dis- 
satisfied frame  of  mind. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  married 
life  her  husband  had  been  presented 
to  her  as  a  being  possessed  of  facul- 
ties  and   ideas,  .  .  .  even   opinions. 
She  saw  him  in  the  light  of  another 
man's   eyes  ;  caught,   as    it   were,   a 
reflection  of  his  individuality  in  the 
mirror  of  another  man's  attractions, 
and  the  vision  had  seriously  discom- 
posed her. 

She  had  lived  with  him  all  these 
years,  and  yet  she  remembered  now 
she  really  knew  very  little  of  him. 
He  had  only  seemed  to  her  a  mild, 
inoffensive  person  who  read  a  great 
79 


8o  a  tmsbanD  of  1fto  importance 

deal,  and  liked  a  good  dinner,  and 
preferred  a  theatre  to  any  other  form 
of  entertainment. 

Then,  to-night,  she  had  met  him 
at  the  Circle,  and  found  him  on 
terms  of  intimate  acquaintance  with 
an  actor.  It  was  certainly  odd. 

True  to  her  peculiar  tenets,  she 
had  not  interfered  with  him  or  his 
pursuits  during  the  evening,  nor  in- 
formed him  when  she  was  going 
home. 

Having  wasted  a  couple  of  hours 
at  the  Circle,  satirised  the  over- 
dressed idlers  who  came  out  of  curi- 
osity, exchanged  opinions  with  a  few 
of  the  workers,  and  generally  ignored 
the  rest  of  the  "  crew,"  as  she  termed 
them,  she  had  taken  herself  off  in  a 
very  bad  temper. 

Once  at  home,  she  had  put  on  her 
"  working-gown,"  and  shut  herself 
into  her  own  special  den.  But  not 
even  the  soothing  effect  of  a  cigarette 
calmed  her  nerves,  or  enabled  her  to 
settle  down  to  work.  She  sat,  pen  in 
hand,  idly  tracing  lines  on  the  paper 
before  her.  She  had  determined 


a  1busban&  of  flo  flmportance  81 

upon  completing  a  chapter  of  her 
new  novel  before  going  to  bed,  but 
somehow  her  thoughts  would  not 
flow  in  a  given  channel.  Always — 
always  they  drifted  off  to  that  dis- 
cussion on  the  burning  question  of 
the  day :  the  question  that  she 
had  taken  up  with  hot  enthusiasm, 
lashing  right  and  left  unsparing  sar- 
casm, yet  dimly  conscious  all  the 
time  that  it  was  useless  and  one- 
sided. 

Do  what  one  would,  women  would 
always  be  their  own  worst  enemies, 
and  men  knew  it,  and  only  laughed 
at  the  spurts  of  indignation  which 
from  time  to  time  marked  their 
crusade  against  the  tyranny  of 
custom. 

"  You  think  so  much  of  imagi- 
nary characters  that  you  overlook 
the  real  ones,  close  at  hand." 

That  was  what  he  had  said  . 
that  was  what  she  found  herself 
writing  on  the  lines  before  her,  until 
the  bold,  clear  words  seemed  to  live 
and  sound  in  her  ears,  and  bring  up 
again  that  bright,  laughing  face 

6 


with  its  changeful  expressions  and 
its  good-humoured  mockery  of  her- 
self. 

He  knew  her,  he  had  discussed 
her,  and  with  her  own  husband. 

It  was  a  humiliation  and  surpris- 
ing experience.  Her  husband  ! 
Why,  she  had  never  condescended 
to  enlighten  him  on  her  views. 
She  had  simply  classed  him  in  that 
catalogue  of  degraded  beings  for 
whom  the  name  of  "  Man "  said 
all  that  was  necessary  to  say. 

Her  face  grew  hot  now  as  she 
thought  of  it.  That  a  stranger,  a 
person  whom  she  had  only  met 
twice,  should  be  able  to  accuse  her 
of  neglect  of  her  first  duty — the 
duty  of  a  wife,  that  he  should  be 
able  to  show  her  that  this  same  hus- 
band was  a  complete  stranger  to 
her  when  he  might  have  been  an 
adviser  and  a  friend  ! 

With  all  Mrs.  Rashleigh's  eccen- 
tricity and  enthusiasm  she  had  a 
strong  code  of  honour.  She  was 
passionless  and  cold  by  nature. 
Many  women  are  that  who  cultivate 


21  f)U8bano  of  1Ro  importance  83 

their  brains  at  the  expense  of  their 
sex.  She  had  seen  other  women 
fall  in  love,  and  make  fools  of  them- 
selves, as  the  case  might  be,  and  she 
had  only  stood  aloof,  on  a  pinnacle 
of  lofty  contempt,  and  wondered  at 
them. 

Life  seemed  to  her  to  mean  so 
much  more  than  just,  this — Love. 
Love  —  that  modern-day  sensual- 
ism had  turned  into  a  travesty  of 
what  was  once  pure  and  ennobling  ! 
Love — that  only  meant  a  faux-pas 
at  which  society  smirked,  and  whose 
real  degradation  it  condoned,  so 
long  as  the  offenders  were  discreet 
and  rich.  Love — that  was  the  jar- 
gon of  novelists  who  centred  the 
real  meaning  of  life  in  a  wedding- 
ring  !  Love — that  even  the  tepid 
masher  laughed  to  scorn,  and  the 
Church  had  ceased  to  sanctify  ! 

If  Marion  Rashleigh  could  have 
descended  to  any  weakness  it  would 
have  been  a  reverent  adoration  for 
genius  .  .  .  and  a  very  noble 
constancy  to  a  verified  ideal.  But 
her  experience  had  taught  her  to 


84  a  f)U8ban&  of  "Wo  importance 

look  down  rather  than  "  up,"  and 
men  had  only  become  to  her  what 
her  impulsive  words  had  termed 
them  in  her  recent  discussion. 

It  was  a  pity.  For  there  was  an 
element  of  nobility  in  her  nature 
that  was  capable  of  great  things, 
but  now  had  been  warped  and 
strained  in  a  wrong  direction. 

If  Fate  had  been  kind  to  her,  if 
circumstances  had  only  left  her  free 
in  her  calm,  clear-sighted  youth  for 
a  space  of  time,  she  might  have  made 
a  wiser  choice. 

Decidedly  Life  is  hard  on  women. 

Between  Servitude  and  Marriage 
they  have  little  to  choose,  and  youth 
is  short  and  blind  and  impetuous. 
They  are  hustled  into  a  choice,  while 
man  can  wait  and  parley  as  he 
pleases.  Then  a  day  comes  when 
the  senses  revolt — the  mind  leaps 
into  action  ;  when  Existence  ripens, 
and  demands  a  wider  field  for 
thought  and  feeling  than  the  beaten 
track  worn  hollow  by  feet  of  pa- 
tient slaves. 

Marion     Rashleigh     could     have 


S  f>u0ban&  of  tlo  Importance  85 

stood  alone  had  she  possessed  means 
of  subsistence — a  profession,  or  em- 
ployment. But  she  was  penniless, 
hampered  by  family  ties,  handcuffed 
by  prejudice,  and  she  saw  but  one 
mode  of  escape. 

She  took  it.  Now  she  looked 
back,  and  scorned  herself  for  her 
weakness. 

"  I  should  have  worked  .  .  . 
I  ought  to  have  been  brave  enough 
to  face  the  world  myself,"  she 
thought.  ..."  After  all,  what  is 
the  use  of  preaching  to  other  women. 
I  am  no  better.  ...  I  did  the 
same  thing  they  have  done,  and  are 
doing,  and  will  do,  till  the  Day  of 
Judgment  solves  this  awful  prob- 
lem !  " 

Her  cigarette  had  gone  out  un- 
noticed. The  glass  of  iced  water 
by  her  side  was  untasted.  She  felt 
weary  and  depressed.  The  zest  had 
gone  out  of  work.  The  spur  of  en- 
thusiasm seemed  blunted. 

Impatiently  she  locked  away  her 
papers,  and  extinguished  the  lamp. 

As  she  walked  down  the  passage 


86  a  twsbanO  of  "Mo  Ifmportance 

she  saw  a  light  gleaming  under  the 
dining-room  door.  She  opened  it 
and  looked  in. 

Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh  was  sitting  by 
the  table,  his  head  bent  over  a  heap  of 
"  typing,"  a  pencil  in  his  hand. 

He  wore  a  shabby  old  jacket,  his 
hair  was  rough  and  crumpled  as  if  in 
the  frenzy  of  lapsed  ideas  or  puzzling 
calculations. 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  remembered  Ve- 
loutine  Despard's  summary  of  his 
employment — "  Armaments,  or  war 
estimates,  or  things  !  " 

She  smiled  compassionately. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  worked  so 
late,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  know  it 
is  nearly  two  o'clock  ? " 

He  hustled  away  his  papers  in  a 
shamefaced  manner. 

"  Is  it  ?  .  .  .  I  had  no  idea. 
Do  you  want  the  lights  put  out  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  wondering  why 
he  seemed  so  confused. 

Then  she  entered  the  room,  shut 
the  door,  and  drew  a  chair  up  oppo- 
site to  him. 

"  No,"  she  said,   "  I  want  to  talk 


a  f)iisbanJ)  of  Ho  importance  $7 

to  you  for  a  few  moments,  if  you  can 
afford  the  time  ?  " 

He  looked  more  astonished  than 
she  could  have  imagined  possible, 
though  no  one  knew  better  than  her- 
self how  very  unprecedented  a  re- 
quest she  had  made. 

"  My  time  is  always  at  your  dis- 
posal, Marion,"  he  said  courteously. 
"  You  certainly  put  in  but  little 
claim  to  it." 

The  pile  of  typed  MSS.  was  pushed 
aside,  but  he  leant  one  arm  on  it. 
She  could  form  no  opinion  as  to  its 
nature. 

"  I  want  to  know,"  she  said,  in  her 
usual  downright  manner,  "  how  you 
made  the  acquaintance  of  that  young 
actor.  You  seemed  on  such  very 
friendly  terms  ?  " 

"  I  met  him  at  Scarborough  last 
summer." 

Mrs.  Rashleigh  cast  her  memory 
back  —  a  memory  of  emancipated 
visits  taken  at  her  own  sweet  will, 
and  giving  her  husband  equal  free- 
dom of  movement. 

"  Oh !     .     .     .     "  she  said,  push- 


ing  the  thick,  soft  hair  up  from  her 
forehead  in  a  perturbed  and  restless 
fashion.  "  At  Scarborough.  How 
does  he  act  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  most  perfect  Captain 
Absolute  I  ever  saw.  And  his  Tony 
Lumpkin  is  a  creation  to  be  remem- 
bered !  " 

"  I  did  n't  know,"  she  said,  "  that 
you  cared  for  dramatic  art  so  much. 
You  would  never  come  to  First 
Nights  with  me  ?  " 

He  looked  surprised. 

"  I  fancy,"  he  said,  "  you  have 
very  rarely  asked  me — or  if  so,  only 
to  pieces  I  did  not  care  to  see.  The 
modern  drama  is  often  more  revolt- 
ing to  one's  taste  than  improving  to 
one's  morals." 

"  Bad  taste  is  the  distinguishing 
mark  of  the  end  of  the  century.  One 
sees  it  in  everything — in  morals, 
manners,  entertainments,  books,  art. 
.  .  .  It  drives  one  to  despair. 
We  can  no  longer  plead  Ignorance 
— and  look  at  the  use  we  have  made 
of  Knowledge." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "  Ignorance  is 


a  tmsbano  of  tto  importance  89 

only  another  name  for  baulked  curi- 
osity. Female  ignorance,  at  least. 
Once  gratified,  it  is  content  with  the 
knowledge — of  evil  only." 

"  That,"  she  said  sarcastically, 
"  is  almost  worthy  of  Oscar  Wilde  ! 
When  men  think  it  worth  their  while 
to  study  women  instead  of  scoffing 
at  them,  they  may  learn  a  great  deal 
more  than  they  imagine." 

"  I  am  sure  "  he  said,  gently,  "  that 
no  man  really  worth  the  name  ever 
scoffs  at  Woman.  He  owes  her  too 
much.  We  can  always  remember 
our  mothers." 

"  Even  if  you  despise  your  wives. 
True  !  But  what  a  man  accepts  in 
his  mother  he  has  learnt  in  the  age 
of  dependence  and  compelled  sup- 
pression. What  he  accepts  from  his 
wife  is  only  what  he  allows  hef  to 
offer." 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  you  hold 
very  strong  opinions  on  these  matters. 
Of  course  I  have  read  your  books 
.  .  .  although  you  have  not  seemed 
to  desire  it.  If  I  might  presume  to 
offer  any  criticism 


go  a  twebanfc  of  "Wo  flmportance 

"  My  dear  Hesketh,  don't  fancy 
I  am  so  thin-skinned  as  to  fear  that." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  they  are 
marred  by  that  peculiarly  one-sided 
view  Woman  will  persist  in  taking 
of  these  matters.  You  say  men 
made  the  laws.  True.  But  you 
cannot  say  that  they  made  them 
without  the  best  intentions  and  the 
strictest  impartiality.  Both  sides 
have  patient  hearing,  and  equal 
justice.  Woman  in  the  present  day 
are  volcanic  and  irrational.  The 
first  taste  of  liberty  has  excited 
their  enthusiasm  to  the  exclusion  of 
their  judgment.  They  abuse  with- 
out inquiry,  and  forfeit  individual 
benefit  for  sake  of  general  animad- 
version. '  All  men  are  bad.  All 
women  victims.'  That  is  the  cry,  I 
fancy.  Even  your  voice  has  raised 
it/Marion." 

She  nodded.  She  was  curious  to 
hear  what  he  really  had  to  say  upon 
a  subject  she  had  never  yet  deigned 
to  discuss  with  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  all  thinking, 
sensible  men  are  prepared  to  grant 


a  1>u0ban&  of  flo  flmportance  91 

that  women  have  suffered  a  great 
deal,  and  have  been  excluded  from 
many  professions  for  which  they  are 
capable.  But  you  must  remember 
that  this  has  been  done  more  from 
motives  of  consideration  than  of  in- 
justice. We  have  considered  your 
sexual  infirmities  a  great  deal  more 
than  you  imagine.  We  have  given 
you  the  life  of  Home,  its  rule  and 
management.  We  have  withheld 
from  you  nothing  in  the  shape  of 
artistic  education  for  which  you  had 
any  talent.  The  literary  woman  and 
the  artist  woman  may  not  be  the 
most  suitable  of  wives,  but  no  man 
would  deny  the  advantages  of  their 
gifts.  It  is  my  humble  opinion  as 
an  onlooker  at  all  this  strife,  that, 
like  every  other  important  movement, 
the  Time  and  the  Hour  had  to  come, 
and  to  be  led  up  to  by  varying  cir- 
cumstances till  you  were  ripe  for 
action.  You  have  sounded  your 
battle  note  ;  with  you  now  rests  the 
chance  of  victory  or  the  shame  of 
defeat.  We  will  give  you  a  hearing 
— indeed  we  will  give  you  whatever 


you  desire  if  you  go  the  right  way 
about  it  ;  but  we  don't  want  you  to 
be  men,  and  we  will  prevent  it  if  we 
can." 

She  rose  from  her  seat.  Her  face 
wa.s  very  pale  ;  her  eyes  had  a  strange 
glow  in  their  dark  depth.  She 
stretched  out  her  hand  involuntarily. 
"  I  am  glad  I  have  spoken  to  you," 
she  said,  "and  I  almost  believe  you 
are  right." 


VII. 

MISGIVINGS. 

FOR  the  rest  of  the   week   Mrs. 
Hex  Rashleigh  went  about  her 
various  duties  with  stern  reso- 
lution  imprinted    on    her  face,  and 
a  quaking  heart. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  drag  on  the 
wheels  of  Progress.  They  neither 
raced  as  swiftly  nor  as  smoothly  as 
of  yore.  Her  fellow  members  of  the 
Reconstitution  thought  her  decid- 
edly "  grumpy,"  though  they  were 
too  much  in  awe  of  her  to  say  so. 
If  anything,  she  worked  harder  and 
read  more  than  was  her  wont.  She 
also  talked  less. 

'Mrs.  Despard  called  in  at  the  Club 
two  consecutive  afternoons  to  induce 
her  to  stray   into  the  flowery  paths 
93 


94  B  fjusbanO  of  IRo  Umportance 

of  society,  as  exemplified  by  the  Row 
alive  with  a  new  Royalty,  and  a  polo 
match  at  Hurlingham  ;  but  she  re- 
fused attendance.  She  only  said 
contemptuous  things  of  society,  and 
told  Veloutine  she  looked  like  a 
French  doll. 

Mrs.  Despard  laughed.  All  wo- 
men were  occasionally  out  of  temper. 
She  recognised  Mrs.  Rashleigh's 
pettishness  as  a  bond  of  weakness, 
and  told  her  her  liver  was  out  of 
order. 

Then  she  took  herself  and  her 
perfumed  flounces  off  to  some  other 
of  her  hundred  and  one  dear  friends, 
and  "  frivolled  "  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent. 

She  was  very  fond  of  Marion,  but 
also  she  was  a  little  bit  afraid  of  her. 
It  was  only  her  passion  for  contrasts, 
her  love  of  light  and  shade,  that  had 
occasioned  her  persistent  cultivation 
of  a  woman  so  totally  different  to 
herself,  and  whose  life  gave  so  per- 
petual a  rebuke  to  her  own  world. 
Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh's  books  had 
made  her  celebrated,  but  she  was 


21  DusbanO  of  IRo  Umportance  95 

not  popular.  However,  it  is  no  bad 
plan  to  make  people  afraid  of  you, 
if  you  do  not  particularly  wish  for 
their  liking.  Good-nature  is  really 
a  sign  of  weakness,  and  is  invariably 
taken  advantage  of.  The  barometer 
of  public  feeling  has  a  special  weak- 
ness for  fair  weather — and  smiles. 
Very  few  women,  or  men  either,  are 
content  with  limited  appreciation. 
To  be  so,  means  unusual  strength  of 
mind  and  personal  approbation.  But 
Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  had  said,  "  What 
I  choose  to  do,  or  think  right  to  do, 
that  I  shall  do."  She  was  strong- 
minded,  and  those  about  her  soon 
felt  her  power. 

That  faculty  of  dominating  others 
is  a  gift  of  nature.  It  cannot  be 
acquired,  or  bought,  or  learnt.  It  is 
largely  made  up  of  personal  magne- 
tism, to  which  culture  and  observa- 
tion contribute.  It  differs  from 
fascination,  being  almost  indepen- 
dent of  beauty  ;  but  it  is  of  greater 
worth,  and  its  influence  more 
lasting. 

Nearly  every  one  knew    Mrs.  Hex 


96  a  fjusbanD  of  Ho  Importance 

Rashleigh  by  name,  but  her  circle  of 
personal  friends  was  limited.  It  was 
her  own  fault,  or  rather  her  own  de- 
sire. She  had  no  time  to  spare  for 
cultivating  inanities,  and  though  she 
put  up  with  Mrs.  Despard,  and  was 
indeed  fond  of  her  in  a  pitying,  pro- 
tective fashion,  she  drew  the  line  at 
Mrs.  Despard's  friends.  Perhaps 
this  was  wise,  for  their  name  was 
Legion,  and  their  morals  very  fin  de 
siecle  indeed.  They  were  people 
who  lived  for  enjoyment  ...  to  whom 
Right  and  Wrong  meant  only  what 
was  desirable  or  what  was  not.  If  a 
temptation  came  in  their  way  they 
never  dreamt  of  resistance.  Such 
resistance  as  is  disturbing  and  makes 
one  uncomfortable.  They  yielded, 
and  then — analysed  the  peculiarities 
of  human  nature  and  the  complex 
working  of  temperment.  That  made 
their  peccadilloes  so  interesting  that 
they  became  almost  virtues. 

To  say  that  a  woman  of  Mrs. 
Hex  Rashleigh's  type  despised  this 
class  of  moralisers  is  to  say  very 
little.  She  loathed  them,  and  she 


n  1bu8ban&  of  IRo  Umportance  97 

never  spared  them  in  her  writings  or 
her  lectures. 

A  great  passion,  however  unfortu- 
nate, has  some  element  of  nobility 
and  self-sacrifice  in  it.  It  is  nature 
at  its  highest  state  of  exaltation 
speaking  through  the  heart  to  the 
soul ;  but  the  countless  intrigues  and 
flirtations  with  which  society  women 
soil  their  lives  are  at  once  the  de- 
spair and  disgrace  of  the  world  they 
rule.  The  woman  who  can  stand 
aloof  and  let  men  woo  her  for  her 
own  worth  is  the  only  woman  who 
can  claim  his  respect,  and  if  he  loves 
her  without  such  reverence  his  pas- 
sion is  only  effervescent. 


When  Sunday  came  round,  Mrs. 
Hex  Rashleigh  was  conscious  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  that  a  "  day  " 
might  possess  an  element  of  interest 
apart  from  mere  callers. 

In  plain  words,  she  hoped  for  one 
special  visitor,  and  felt  a  thrill  of 
genuine  pleasure  when  he  came. 

This  was  odd,  considering  that  the 


g8  S  1bu8ban&  of  1Ro  Umportance 

room  held  several  quite  learned  and 
celebrated  people,  including  a  Swed- 
ish dramatist  and  an  American  fe- 
male lecturer,  who  had  come  over 
armed  with  special  letters  of  intro- 
duction from  the  Emancipated  Sis- 
terhood at  Chicago. 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  was 
a  little  tired  of  the  lecturer.  She 
was  so  very  loud,  and  she  had  such 
a  marvellous  flow  of  speech.  In  any 
case,  she  handed  her  over  to  the 
Swede,  and  drew  Blake  Beverley  away 
from  their  noisy  neighbourhood  to  a 
cosy  corner  where  stood  two  basket- 
chairs  and  a  tea-table. 

"You  did  remember,  then?"  she 
said,  handing  him  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
signifying  that  he  might  occupy  the 
other  chair. 

"  Of  course.  You  surely  did  not 
fancy  that  I  should  forego  such  a 
pleasure  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  keenly.  He 
was  handsomer  than  ever,  she 
thought. 

"  That  sounds  very  conventional, 
but  you  owe  it  to  your  nationality. 


a  twsbanD  of  flo  Umportance  99 

By  the  way,  how  is  it  that  you  have 
so  completely  dropped  the  brogue 
with  which  you  favoured  me  for  the 
first  ten  minutes  of  our  acquaint- 
ance ?  " 

He  coloured  slightly.  "  I  'm 
afraid,"  he  said,  "  I  was  rather  rude 
to  you  that  afternoon.  I  only  put  it 
on  for  fun." 

"  I  thought  so.  I  wondered  why 
you  thought  it  necessary." 

Her  voice  was  rather  languid,  and 
her  face  paler  than  he  had  ever  seen 
it.  For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her 
with  the  interest  of  a  man  for  a  wo- 
man— not  the  half-critical  animosity 
she  had  hitherto  aroused. 

"  I  must  ask  for  forgiveness  on  the 
plea  of  that  very  nationality,"  he  said, 
with  genuine  regret  in  his  voice. 
"  We  so  often  let  impulse  run  away 
with  discretion.  But  I  might  have 
known  you  were  different  to  most 
women." 

"  I  wonder  if  that  is  an  advantage, 
or  a  reproach,"  she  said,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

"  An    advantage,    I    should    say. 


ioo  21  ibusbaiifc  of  1Ro  importance 

May  I  remark  that  your  rooms  are 
charming.  What  a  lovely  idea  that 
is." 

"  You  mean  those  shelves  running 
round  the  room.  Yes,  I  had  that 
done  for  convenience,  and  the  result 
is  rather  good.  I  like,  wherever  I 
am,  to  stretch  .out  my  hand  and  have 
a  book  beside  me.  So  I  had  those 
shelves  made,  and  gradually  they 
have  lent  themselves  to  many  uses." 

"  You  are  devoted  to  books,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  yes.  I  often  say  I  could 
do  without  people  and  be  very  con- 
tent, but  I  can't  live  without  books." 

"  Rough  on  the  people,  though. 
But  I  should  fancy  you  were  very 
critical.  Since  I  last  saw  you  I  have 
been  reading  Gillian.  It  is  wonder- 
fully clever." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  '  But ' — ?  A 
woman's  work  is  always  qualified  by 
a  man,  just  as  a  woman's  looks  are 
always  qualified  by  a  woman." 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  to  be  candid, 
I  felt  inclined  to  say '  but.'  I  thought 
you  were  hard  on  that  poor  woman 


a  f>u8ban&  of  Ifto  Umportance  101 

Margot.  You  did  not  make  allow- 
ance for  hereditary  instincts,  and  for 
vicious  surroundings." 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  often  let  my  own 
feelings  carry  me  too  far  either  for 
or  against  a  case.  I  should  remem- 
ber my  favourite  Hegel — '  Nature  is 
for  man  only  the  starting  point  which 
he  must  transform  to  something  better'  " 

'  That  's  hardly  logical,  is  it  ? 
How  can  one  transform  a  starting 
point  into  anything  else  ?  It  must 
continue  to  be  the  beginning." 

"  He  means  nature,  of  course.  I 
was  translating." 

"  Oh  !  those  German  metaphysi- 
cians would  split  a  hair  and  then 
argue  about  its  component  parts. 
Don't  you  think  it 's  a  pity  to  spoil 
this  jolly  life  with  all  this  analysing 
and  prying  into  what  it  means,  or 
why  it  is?" 

"A  pity?  ...  Oh  !  no.  The  pity 
is  not  to  try  and  understand  it,  and 
make  it  better  worth  living." 

"  I  find  it  very  well  worth  living," 
he  said,  putting  down  his  cup. 

"  But    you    have     an    object — a 


102  a  tmsbano  of  Ho  Importance 

career.  That  gives  it  interest.  An 
existence  without  interest  is  impos- 
sible. It  tends  to  moral  destruction. 
Life  is  only  stimulating  when  one 
can  do  something — not  passively  ac- 
cept what  other  people  have  done." 

"  Undoubtedly  that  is  so.  But  few 
can  do  what  they  wish.  Life  is  lim- 
ited by  circumstances,  which  in  nine 
cases  out  of  every  ten  are  too  strong 
to  resist,  or  to  break  down." 

"  Not  if  one  has  courage  and  de- 
termination. Difficulties,  like  tempta- 
tions, exist  to  be  overcome." 

"  By  the  strong.  But  confess  the 
majority  of  men  are  not  strong. 
They  need  excuse  more  than  con- 
demnation— a  helping  hand,  not  a 
rod  of  chastisement." 

She  was  silent.  It  seemed  strange 
to  have  to  confess  she  was  wrong  on 
so  many  points — points  which,  up  to 
a  week  before,  she  would  have  up- 
held to  the  death.  She  found  herself 
wondering  at  the  change,  as  well  as 
disturbed  by  it.  And  it  was  all  the 
outcome  of  one  chance  afternoon 
spent  in  unpalatable  society — an 


fc  twsbanD  of  "too  tfmportance  103 

afternoon  which  she  had  declared 
"  wasted." 

"  I  hope  my  plain-speaking  has  n't 
offended  you  ?  "  he  said  at  last,  sur- 
prised by  her  long  silence. 

She  lifted  her  head,  and  the  big, 
honest  brown  eyes  looked  at  him 
with  something  of  distress  and  ap- 
peal. 

"  Oh  !  no.  Only  there  are  times 
when  the  failure  of  effort  and  the  ut- 
ter misapprehension  with  which  it  is 
met,  makes  one  rather  hopeless." 

"  Still,  effort  is  better  than  inan- 
ity. It  is  the  symbol  of  strength. 
People  are  weak  ;  but  they  learn  to 
love  what  helps  them.  You  must 
have  done  a  good  deal  in  that  way." 

"  The  sort  of  help  that  is  like  the 
stone  of  Sisyphus  !  "  she  said,  with 
sudden  bitterness — "  rolling  back  as 
fast  as  one  moves  it  forward." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so  !  Your  hus- 
band says  you  have  been  of  incalcu- 
lable benefit  to  him,  as  well  as  to  the 
mission  you  have  taken  up.  By  the 
way,  where  is  he  ?  ...  I  wanted  to 
talk  to  him  about " 


104  B  IbusbanD  of  IRo  1t mportance 

He  stopped  abruptly.  He  remem- 
bered a  caution  he  had  received. 
She  noted  the  hesitation,  and  won- 
dered. 

"  He  never  comes  in  on  my  day," 
she  said  coldly.  "  I  don't  think  his 
nature  is  a  sociable  one." 

"  If  you  saw  him  at  the  club  !  " 
exclaimed  Blake  Beverley. 

"  You  see,  I  have  n't  that  privi- 
lege. I  don't  even  know  what  club 
he  goes  to." 

"  I  should  ask  him,  if  I  were  you," 
said  the  young  Irishman,  laughing. 
"  It  would  surprise  you  to  hear — Ah  ! 
is  n't  that  your  friend  Mrs.  Despard  ? 
I  "ve  so  often  wanted  to  know  her." 

He  rose  as  the  little,  gay,  exquis- 
itely dressed  figure  advanced  towards 
the  table. 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  rose  too. 

Of  course  she  must  introduce 
them.  The  thing  was  unavoidable, 
and  Tina  was  such  a  desperate  flirt 
— and  so  pretty  ! 


VIII. 

AN    "ARTICLE"   DEFINITE  AND  DE- 
FINED. 

BY  five  o'clock  Mrs.  Hex  Rash- 
leigh's  rooms  were  crowded. 

She  herself  moved  from  group 
to  group,  encouraging  or  entering  into 
a  discussion — always  graceful,  always 
ready  with  some  trenchant  criticism 
or  a  propos  remark. 

A  pair  of  blue  eyes  watched  her 
with  keen  interest. 

It  was  quite  possible  for  Blake 
Beverley  to  talk  to  one  woman  and 
observe  another. 

A  woman  of  Mrs.  Despard's  type, 
too,  did  most  of  the  talking  her- 
self, and  laid  no  great  claim  upon 
her  entertainer,  if  he  was  good- 
looking. 

105 


io6  B  Ibusbanfc  of  Ho  importance 

Blake  Beverley  found  himself 
wondering  how  a  woman  like 
Marion  Rashleigh  could  make  a 
friend  of  such  a  frivolous  little  so- 
ciety doll  as  Tina  Despard.  Yet,  in 
their  different  way,  both  women  were 
interesting — types  of  different  worlds 
where  each  played  a  part,  and  had  a 
vocation. 

People  who  go  in  for  violent  re- 
form rarely  pause  to  think  how  ex- 
cessively bored  they  would  be  if 
every  one  thought,  spoke,  and  acted 
on  exactly  the  same  lines. 

It  is  the  very  diversity  of  opinions 
and  the  very  variation  of  actions  that 
give  life  any  sensation  or  interest. 
A  dead  level  must  be  dull,  even  if 
the  levellers  have  had  the  best  mo- 
tives in  rolling  and  smoothing  down 
all  obstructions. 

Blake  Beverley  enjoyed  "  types " 
immensely.  He  had  been  favoured 
with  three  of  the  most  varied  and 
opposite  lately  in  the  persons  of 
Marion  Rashleigh,  L/aura  Loosely, 
and  Veloutine  Despard. 

The  first  was  decidedly  the  most 


a  •fcusban&  of  1Ro  Umportance  107 

interesting — the  last  the  most  amus- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Loosely  he  had  "  placed  "  in 
his  own  mind  as  a  woman  with  the 
most  elastic  code  of  morality — a 
woman  who  would  never  permit 
modesty  to  stand  in  the  way  of  any 
"fancy,"  and  whose  dresses  and 
whose  passions  made  up  the  sum  of 
life's  interests. 

A  dangerous  woman — a  woman  to 
be  avoided — a  woman  whom  no  man 
could  help  distrusting  and  despising 
even  while  she  flattered  his  vanity 
and  played  Delilah  to  his  lower  in- 
stincts. 

Even  as  he  sat  now  in  this  room, 
with  its  quiet  and  homelike  grace,  its 
perfect  tones  of  colour,  its  absence 
of  all  the  fripperies  and  follies  of 
modern  drawing-room  decorations, 
he  remembered  the  note  in  his  coat- 
pocket  requesting,  almost  command- 
ing, his  presence,  at  this  same  hour, 
in  a  very  different  place. 

The  very  scent  of  it  seemed  to 
desecrate  this  room  of  Marion  Rash- 
leigh's — its  noble  proportions  so  care- 


fully  utilised,  its  sense  of  studious 
peace,  its  artistic  colouring  and  care- 
fully chosen  draperies.  The  in- 
stincts of  women  speak  out  very 
strongly  in  their  homes.  It  should 
never  be  difficult  to  judge  them  from 
exclusively  personal  surroundings. 

Blake  Beverley  observed  and 
noted,  and  from  time  to  time  his  ear 
listened  for  that  clear,  full-toned 
voice,  with  its  modulated  expression 
and  its  well-chosen  words. 

From  time  to  time,  too,  he  found 
himself  noting  the  grand  lines  of  that 
splendid  figure  in  its  robe  of  dull 
velvet  and  quaint  oxidised  girdle. 
How  well  she  looked  in  this  style 
of  dress,  and  how  wise  she  was  to 
adopt  and  keep  to  it  in  an  age  when 
Fashion  had  vulgarised  everything 
artistic,  and  a  woman's  shoulders 
seem  the  only  portion  of  her  frame 
worthy  to  command  notice  ! 

Meanwhile  Tina  Despard  chat- 
tered like  a  pert  parrot,  scandalising 
every  one  she  knew,  and  telling  risky 
little  stories  with  the  most  babyish 
innocence. 


B  fjusbanD  of  "Wo  importance  109 

But  he  noticed  that  she  always 
spoke  affectionately,  almost  reve- 
rently, of  Marion  Rashleigh. 

"  She  is  the  one  woman  I  have 
ever  known  who  has  not  a  bit  of  the 
'cat'  in  her,"  she  chirped.  "We 
most  of  us  have  it,  you  know,  more 
or  less.  I  've  never  discovered  any 
about  her.  If  anything,  she  is  too 
good.  .  .  .  She  makes  all  other 
women  seem  small  and  foolish  and 
trivial.  They  abuse  her  dreadfully  ; 
I  never  do.  I  have  the  most  intense 
appreciation  of  her.  I  have  always 
considered  it  an  honour  to  be  her 
friend." 

"  I  can  quite  understand  that," 
said  Blake  Beverley,  with  a  feeble 
attempt  to  stem  the  torrent  of  chat- 
ter. 

"  It's  a  pity,  though,  she  goes  in 
for  this  Emancipation  business.  .  .  . 
Women  won't  be  made  different,  and 
that's  the  truth.  Half  of  us  are 
bound  to  be  foolish,  and  to  like  dress 
and  society,  and  the  world  as  it  is. 
We  don't  want  it  altered.  We  know 
we  're  bad  by  comparison,  but  we 


no  a  f)U8ban&  of  "Mo  ITmportance 

: * 

rather  like  it.  There  's  more  fun  out 
of  the  naughty  side  of  life  than  the 
good.  Marion  is  built  on  grand 
lines.  She  can't  help  being  good, 
but  she  's  an  exceptional  person. 
There 's  a  .  .  .  what  on  earth  's 
the  word  ? — a  preponderance  about 
her.  She 's  terribly  in  earnest,  and 
she  has  done  a  lot  of  really  useful 
work.  I  can  only  help  her  with 
money.  I  always  considered  money 
the  most  important  thing  in  the  world 
till  I  knew  her.  Now  I  've  learnt 
that  it 's  Work  .  .  .  with  a  capi- 
tal W,  you  know.  I  call  this  the 
twenty-third  letter  age.  All  the  im- 
portant things  begin  with  W.  Have 
you  noticed?  Women  —  Working- 
man — Wages — Work.  I  made  out  a 
heap  of  others,  but  I  've  forgotten 
them.  I  hate  work  myself.  I  always 
did.  That 's  why  I  married  money. 
I  know  it  sounds  very  dreadful,  but 
it 's  perfectly  true.  After  all,  one 
has  to  marry  something,  has  n't 
one  ?  " 

"  Usually  a  man  ;  but  of   course 
he  's  very  insignificant  nowadays." 


"  Only  to  people  like  Marion,"  she 
said,  with  a  pretty  glance  that  was 
flattery  itself.  "  Do  you  know  I 
used  to  be  awfully  afraid  of  her 
once." 

"  I  can  quite  believe  it.  What  de- 
stroyed that  wholesome  awe  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  wholesome. 
Sounds  like  wholemeal  bread  and 
Chipp's  cocoa,  and  all  those  nutritious 
and  unpalatable  things  !  Oh,  it 's 
not  destroyed.  She  can  be  very 
terrible  sometimes,  but  she  's  good  to 
me,  and  makes  excuses.  I  do  my 
little  best  to  please  her,  and  she 
accepts.  Sometimes  I  fancy  she 
finds  me  refreshing  after  the  Heavy 
Contingent.  The  women,  you  know. 
I  'm  only  a  woman,  an  indefinite 
creature  in  the  scale  of  creation. 
You  note  the  difference  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  said,  laughing  despite 
himself.  "  But  you  might  particu- 
larise it." 

"  Well,  the  woman  is  stern,  stolid, 
denunciatory.  She  never  flirts — she 
never  frivols.  She  has  a  mission, 
and  she  lets  you  know  it.  She  wants 


n2  a  Ibu0ban&  of  TFlo  Umportance 

to  reform  everything,  to  get  us  into 
colleges  and  universities  and  pro- 
fessions. She  invents  hideous  gar- 
ments and  calls  them  Rational.  She 
makes  athletic  exercises  her  sole 
excuse  for  recreation.  She  eats  and 
drinks  on  hygienic  principles.  She 
wears  Jaeger  clothing,  and  takes 
cold  baths  in  the  winter.  She  has 
views,  and  airs  them  everywhere,  at 
home  and  abroad.  She  is  down- 
right and  dominant.  ...  I  think 
that  's  about  all.  Now  for  the  other 
side,  .  .  .  indefinite  but  not  in- 
definable. She 's  only  subtle.  It 
may  n't  sound  much,  but  it  means  a 
lot.  It  means  she  '11  get  all  she  wants 
without  any  trouble,  while  the  other 
woman  will  have  a  world  of  trouble 
and — never  get  it !  " 

She  stopped,  probably  from  want 
of  breath — certainly  not  for  want  of 
words. 

"  I  '11  tell  you,"  she  went  on, 
presently,  "  another  point  on  which 
we  differ.  '  The  woman '  is  not 
emotional.  No  one,  I  believe,  has 
ever  seen  her  cry.  Now  the  insig- 


a  tmsbanfr  of  flo  flmportance  113 

nificant  ones  are  always  in  floods  at 
the  least  thing.  It 's  childish,  but 
we  can't  help  it.  The  other  seems 
to  have  corked  up  her  tear-bottle 
with  her  emotions.  She  is  always 
strong,  and  always  hard.  No  one  is 
really  so  hard  as  an  unemotional 
women.  On  the  other  hand,  no 
man  is  so  strong.  If  she  throws 
feeling  overboard  she  can  do  any- 
thing. That 's  where  you  ought  to 
come  in — as  a  sex  I  mean.  Man 
alone  could  teach  her  to  feel,  and 
make  her  unfreeze  herself.  That 's 
one  of  my  own  coinage.  Don't  you 
think  we  ought  to  invent  new  words 
now  and  then  ?  " 

Blake  Beverley  felt  as  if  his  brain 
was  going.  He  rose  abruptly. 

"  I  've  been  here  an  unconscion- 
able time,"  he  exclaimed.  "  And 
for  a  first  visit !  " 

"Oh,  you  needn't  mind  points  of 
etiquette  here,"  said  Mrs.  Despard. 
"  Marion  would  never  notice.  She  's 
too  far  above  such  trivialities.  Do 
you  know  she  never  calls  on  people 
— is  n't  it  funny  ?  Ah  !  there  she  is. 


ii4  S  TbusbanD  of  TWO  flmportancc 

.  .  .  Marion,  your  ears  ought  to  be 
on  fire.  We  've  been  discussing  you 
upside  down." 

Blake  Beverley  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  must  really  be  going,"  he  said. 
"  I  came  for  ten  minutes  and  I  've 
stayed  an  hour." 

Mrs.  Despard  had  also  risen. 

"  There 's  no  chance  of  a  word 
with  you,  Marion,  in  this  crowd. 
So  I  '11  take  myself  off  too.  By-bye, 
dear." 

Marion  Rashleigh  shook  hands 
with  both  in  her  usual  composed, 
queenly  fashion.  Certainly  it  looked 
very  like  a  flirtation.  Probably  Tina 
had  offered  him  a  seat  in  her  victoria. 
Whenever  she  came  upon  a  particu- 
larly nice  man  she  always  found  that 
they  were  going  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  was  good-natured  about 
that  seat. 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  was  wrong, 
however,  in  this  instance. 

As  they  left  the  room  and  moved 
down  the  passage  a  door  was  quietly 
opened. 

"  Ah,  Beverley,  I  thought  I  heard 


a  twebano  of  flo  Importance  115 

your  voice,"  said  Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh. 
"  Can  you  give  me  a  few  minutes  in 
my  study  ? " 

He  retreated  in  a  sort  of  Jack- 
in-the-box  fashion.  Mrs.  Despard 
laughed.  But  she  had  lost  her  escort 
for  that  afternoon. 


IX. 

A    WHOLESOME    DESPAIR. 

"JV/IY  dear  boy,  it  will  never  do. 
I  VI     .  .  .  I  'm  sure  it  will  never 
do  !  "  exclaimed     Mr.    Hex 
Rashleigh,  despondently. 

He  was  sitting  in  a  small,  close 
room,  the  smallest  and  worst  room 
in  the  flat.  It  was  dark  and  ill- 
lighted.  It  smelt  of  smoke  and  was 
littered  over  with  books  and  papers. 
The  owner  of  it  was  seated  at  a 
shabby,  old-fashioned  writing-table, 
a  thing  of  drawers  and  pigeon-holes 
and  ink  splashes.  His  hair  was  ruf- 
fled, his  brow  drawn  and  lined,  his 
eyes  anxious. 

He  had  the  look  of  the  author  in 
that  frame  of  mind  best  described  as 
reactionary.     It   is   a   frame   we  all 
116 


B  tmsband  of  Ho  Importance  117 

know — the  result  of   self-confidence, 
of  self-appreciation,  of  a  little  pleas- 
ant content  which  a  lurking  Demon  ~~\ 
called  "  Dissatisfaction  "  is  always  at       J 
hand  to  overthrow. 

The  Demon  had  made  an  after- 
noon call  on  Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh. 
He  had  ingeniously  disparaged  his 
best  lines,  mocked  at  his  witticisms, 
and  suggested  his  pathos  was  forced. 

The   Demon,  in  fact,  had  had  a    "N 
good  time  of  it,  and  the  poor  victim    J 
a  bad  one.     He  needed  sympathy.  ^ 
Blake  Beverley  saw  that  at  a  glance 
and  proceeded  to  offer  all  the  con- 
solation he  could  command. 

"  She  would  despise  me  so  utterly 
if  I  failed,"  lamented  the  poor  man. 
"  It 's  extraordinary  how  hard  a 
clever  woman  is  on  a  failure.  .  .  . 
I  really  feel  inclined  to  draw  back 
even  now." 

"  Good  heavens,  man  !  Don't  be 
such  a  fool  ! "  exclaimed  the  Irish- 
man, impetuously.  "  Why,  you  've 
got  a  chance  that  other  fellows  would 
give  their  right  hand  almost  to  get ! 
The  very  fact  of  the  play  being 


n8  a  ibusbanfc  of  TRo  flmportance 

accepted  proves  it's  good  stuff. 
Though  Wilton  likes  novelty,  he 
won't  take  up  a  piece  on  that  ground 
alone.  Besides,  you  forget  me.  This 
is  to  be  my  chance  also." 

"You  might  find  another  part 
easily,  and  much  better  suited  to 
you." 

"  I  might,  but  I  don't  intend  to 
look  for  it.  I  'm  quite  content  with 
Captain  O'Connor.  Shall  I  run 
through  a  bit  to  give  you  confidence 
in  yourself  once  more  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  would  !  I  do  feel  a 
gleam  of  hope  when  you  're  on.  It 's 
the  actress  I  fear.  She  does  n't  seem 
to  grasp  the  part." 

"You  mustn't  judge  her  till  the 
last  rehearsal.  She  is  always  like 
that.  Walks  through  the  thing  as  if 
she  didn't  care  a  hang  how  it  went. 
Then  comes  out  in  a  burst.  We 
have  n't  a  finer  dramatic  actress  on 
the  stage  now.  You  need  have  no 
fear  about  her.  Now  listen.  .  .  . 
My  cue,  and  then  read  Lady  War- 
render's  part." 

For  the  next   twenty  minutes  the 


a  "fcusbanO  of  flo  flmportance  119 

little  study  resounded  with  brilliant 
repartee,  trenchant  arguments,  spark- 
ling witticisms.  Blake  Beverley  was 
a  rollicking  Irish  soldier,  patriot  to 
the  core,  gentleman  to  the  backbone, 
.  .  .  a  character  that  could  not 
fail  to  charm,  and  one  that,  to  use 
his  own  expression,  fitted  him  like  a 
glove. 

The  Demon  was  fairly  ousted  now. 
The  merry  thrusts,  the  rapid  give- 
and-take  of  the  dialogue,  the  invol- 
untary laughter  even  from  the  two 
most  concerned  in  criticism,  soon 
banished  that  obnoxious  intruder. 

Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh  put  down  his 
copy  and  wrung  the  young  actor's 
hands  with  enthusiasm. 

"  You  're  simply  perfect.  Oh,  if 
Lady  Warrender  were  half  as  good  !  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  it 's  lucky  she 
does  n't  hear  you.  She  'd  never  for- 
give you.  I  assure  you  again  and 
again  you  need  have  no  fear.  Mind, 
there  are  still  three  weeks  before 
the  date.  Wonders  will  be  done  in 
that  time.  Now  do  be  rational  and 
don't  worry  your  head  about  it 


*2o  a  t>usban£>  of  1Ro  importance 

You  're  in  safe  hands,  and  I  prom- 
ise that  Mrs.  Rashleigh  will  be 
more  than  proud  of  you,  as  you 
seem  to  care  for  her  opinion  above 
everything  else." 

"  I  do,  my  boy.  I  've  often  thought 
she  regrets  our  marriage.  She  's  so 
...  so  superior  to  me  in  every  way, 
and  she  has  just  that  way  of  mak- 
ing one  feel  a  fool.  ...  I  can't  de- 
scribe how — but  it 's  effectual.  If 
this  affair  is  a  failure  I  tell  you 
plainly  I  '11  fly  the  country.  I 
could  n't  face  her." 

Again  Blake  Beverley  laughed. 
"  What !  fly  before  a  woman  !  You 
put  me  on  my  mettle  for  both  our 
sakes.  I  '11  pull  your  play  through 
against  all  odds  now.  And  believe 
me,  an  Irishman  doesn't  make  that 
vow  for  nothing  !  " 

Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh  ran  his  long, 
slender  fingers  through  his  hair  once 
more — a  trick  of  his  when  perturbed 
or  excited.  It  was  pleasant  to  be 
assured  of  success.  Still 

"  You  're  sure  you  have  n't  given 
a  hint,  Beverley  ?  "  he  said  presently. 


H  tM0ban&  of  Ho  flmportance  121 

"  On  my  honour — no.  Did  n't  I 
promise  ?  The  only  question  now  is, 
will  she  be  present  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  hope  not,"  said  the 
nervous  author.  "  Better  to  hear 
than  to  see  if  it  turns  out  wrong." 

"  It 's  not  going  to  turn  out  wrong 
— for  goodness  sake  don't  take  up 
that  idea.  The  best  plan  is  to  send 
her  a  box.  She  's  fond  of  '  First 
Nights,'  and  this  will  be  well  puffed 
beforehand.  What  a  grand  woman 
she  is  !  "  he  added,  after  a  pause. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Mr.  Rashleigh.  "  A 
fine  nature,  but  warped.  If  only  she 
would  let  this  foolish  business  of 
teaching  men  and  women  their  rela- 
tive duties  alone,  she  would  be  wiser 
and  happier  too.  It 's  a  bit  ridicu- 
lous after  all  to  tell  us  that  we  are  to 
go  in  leading  strings  to  women  -;  that 
we  have  mismanaged  the  whole  social 
system  all  these  ages,  and  that  now 
we  are  discovered  to  be  impostures 
and  ignoramuses  with  nothing  to 
qualify  us  for  the  task." 

"  These  new  writers  have  much 
to  answer  for,"  said  Beverley.  "  A 


122  B  f>usban&  of  "Wo  ffmportance 

woman  has  an  unfortunate  experi- 
ence, and  forthwith  she  rushes  into 
print  and  abuses  the  whole  sex  as 
vicious.  She  draws  her  characters 
solely  on  one  line — the  line  of  an 
immoral  and  debased  past — and  its 
results  on  womanhood  and  issue. 
But  all  men  don't  live  immoral  and 
debased  lives.  Those  who  do,  bear 
the  stamp  very  plainly,  and  it 's  a 
woman's  own  fault  if  she  marries 
them.  Besides,  these  Denouncers 
lose  sight  of  one  point.  Man  at  a 
very  early  age  has  two  powerful 
foes  to  combat — his  own  nature  and 
the  tempting  of  women.  In  almost 
every  case  I  have  heard  of,  it  is  she 
who  first  corrupts  Youth,  and  sets 
him  spinning  along  the  downward 
path.  The  boy  of  seventeen  is  a 
baby  of  bashfulness  in  comparison 
with  the  girl  of  that  age.  If  we 
took  the  census  of  the  '  First  Fall ' 
it  would  be  his,  at  her  tempting, 
not  hers  at  his." 

Mr.  Rashleigh  lit  his  pipe  and 
began  to  smoke  meditatively. 

"  I  suppose  so.     It 's  a  puzzle  al- 


a  f)usban&  of  flo  "(Importance  123 

together.  ...  I  must  say  our  colleges 
and  universities  don't  rank  female 
morality  very  highly.  I  suppose, 
too,  they  judge  from  experience." 

"  I  don't  believe  Youth  is  vicious," 
persisted  Beverley.  "  It  is  only  in- 
quisitive, and  it  rarely  gets  its  curi- 
osity satisfied  the  right  way.  It  needs 
a  strong  moral  nature  to  keep  a  man 
virtuous.  A  woman  has  the  help  of 
her  own  instincts  and  surroundings." 

"  Exactly.  .  .  .  They  can  hardly 
go  wrong  if  they  wish.  We  can 
hardly  help  erring  even  if  we  try." 

"  No  man  worth  the  name  ever 
cares  to  stoop  too  low.  He  also  has 
self-respect,  though  a  woman  may  n't 
believe  it.  I  'm  not  going  to  praise 
myself,  but  I  assure  you,  Rashleigh, 
if  you  only  knew  how  I  've  been  pes- 
tered and  run  after  by  women,  even 
women  of  society  and  repute,  you  'd 
say  they  had  n't  much  to  boast  of." 

"  And  we  don't  give  them  away, 
as  they  do  us,"  said  Mr.  Rashleigh, 
sadly.  "  With  all  a  woman's  boast- 
ing a  man's  sense  of  honour  is  far 
stronger  than  hers." 


t24  &  tmsbanfc  of  flo  Importance 

"  It  need  be,"  said  Blake  Beverley, 
with  a  short,  hard  laugh.  "  They 
talk  of  what  they  suffer  at  our 
hands.  Good  Lord  !  how  many  a 
man  has  to  lay  the  blame  of  ruined 
health,  honour,  life,  love,  happiness, 
at  their  door  !  Take  even  marriage. 
What  man  can  really  tell  if  a  woman 
accepts  him  because  she  cares,  or 
only  because  she  wants  to  marry 
some  one  ?  It  is  sickening  to  read 
the  list  of  '  marriages  arranged '  in 
Society  papers.  Talk  about  the 
French  mariages  de  convenatices ! 
What  better  are  ours  ?  Only  the 

English  are  such  d d  hypocrites  ! 

Look  at  our  Divorce  Court.  The 
woman  will  rarely  show  up  with  one 
co-respondent,  and  yet  she  abuses 
us  for  immorality.  If  we  have 
strayed  before  marriage,  by  Jove  ! 
she  makes  up  for  it  after  !  " 

"  You  speak  as  bitterly  as  if — as 
if  your  experience  had  not  been 
altogether  pleasant." 

"What  man's  is — with  a  profes- 
sion like  mine  ?  I  assure  you  when 
Mrs.  Rashleigh  presented  woman  to 


a  tmsbanD  of  Ho  importance  125 

me  from  her  point  of  view  I  almost 
laughed  in  her  face.  Is  it  possible 
she  believes  all  she  says  ? " 

"  I  hardly  .  know.  You  see  she 
rarely  discusses  these  matters  with 
me." 

"  You  should  insist  upon  it.  After 
all  you  are  her  husband,  and  you 
have  a  right  to  give  your  opinion 
of  women  just  as  much  as  she  has 
of  men." 

He  paced  the  room,  and  waxed 
indignant  as  he  pursued  the  subject. 

"  Who  so  merciless  to  her  own 
sex?  Who  rejects  the  servant  with- 
out a  character — the  poor  governess 
who  has  no  reference  but  misfor- 
tune, though  she  knows  such  refusal 
may  ruin  a  fellow  sister's  life  ?  Who 
refuses  aid  to  starving  virtue  if  the 
applicant  is  more  beautiful  than  the 
moralist  ?  Who  keeps  the  shop-girl 
on  her  feet  for  weary  hours,  and 
the  sempstress  at  her  needle  from 
dawn  till  midnight  to  gratify  her 
vanity.  Who  has  the  dumb  brutes 
shot,  the  harmless  birds  snared,  that 
she  may  deck  herself  with  furs  and 


126  B  TbusbanD  of  mo  Umportance 

feathers  ?  Who  neglects  the  little 
babe  at  the  call  of  Fashion,  and 
relegates  a  mother's  rights  to  stran- 
gers ?  Who  is  an  epitome  of  self- 
ishness when  strong,  and  folly  when 
weak  ?  Woman  !  " 

"  I  Ve  said  things  to  that  effect 
here"  observed  Mr.  Rashleigh,  smil- 
ing. 

He  pointed  to  the  MSS.  of  the 
play.  Their  eyes  met.  The  old 
spark  of  mischief  crept  into  those 
of  the  young  Irishman. 

"  True,  I  forgot.  Yes,  there  are 
a  few  sledge-hammer  blows  there. 
I  always  think  the  stage  is  our  real 
Popular  Educator.  People  will  go 
to  a  theatre  who  would  never  read 
a  book,  and  the  stage  gives  life  to 
a  speech  when  the  printed  page 
would  only  seem  dull.  I  can't  un- 
derstand," continued  Blake  Beverley, 
"  why  you  and  Mrs.  Rashleigh  have 
never  worked  together.  You  should 
assimilate  perfectly.  She  has  fine 
dramatic  instincts  too." 

"  She  would  consider  it  waste  of 
time,"  said  the  unimportant  hus- 


B  ttwsbano  of  mo  Umportance  127 

band.  "  And  I  daresay  she  would 
be  right,"  he  added,  with  a  faint 
sigh. 

Blake  Beverley  rose. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said  ;  "  I  prom- 
ised to  dine  at  Wilton's.  I  wish  you 
were  coming.  All  your  '  play  '  will 
be  there," 

"  Then  /  'm  best  out  of  it,"  he 
said,  with  a  nervous  laugh. 

"  Ah,  now,  don't  be  talking  like 
that,"  said  Blake  Beverley,  with  a 
touch  of  "  the  brogue  "  and  a  warm 
shake  of  the  hand.  "  Have  n't  I 
promised  you  success  ?  And  though 
I  did  once  kiss  the  Blarney  Stone, 
shure  it 's  meself  has  the  truthful 
tongue  and  the  'cute  eye  for  a 
prophecy.  I  never  made  a  fail- 
ure in  that  line  yet." 


X. 

AND   YET  ANOTHER    "  TYPE." 

MRS.  LOOSELY  was  "  at  Home." 
Whenever   she   specially  de- 
sired a  new  "  annexation,"  or 
had  successfully  accomplished  one, 
she  celebrated  it  in  this  fashion. 

She  called  all  her  friends  and 
neighbours  around  her  and  put  up 
the  new  conquest  for  exhibition. 
It  was  always  a  platonic  exhibition. 
No  one  could  say  a  word  against 
it — at  first.  She  was  just  sufficiently 
in  awe  of  Mrs.  Grundy  to  toady  her 
a  little,  and  set  up  occasional  do- 
mestic scenery  on  her  stage  of 
morality.  So  she  entertained  her 
lavishly  on  occasion,  with  Mr. 
Loosely  by  her  side,  and  the  "  an- 
nexation "  as  a  discreet  background. 
128 


a  tmsbanO  of  Ho  flmportance  129 

He  could  only  be  distinguished  by 
the  initiated,  or  the  scandal-mongers, 
who  always  would  be  nasty  and  re- 
fused to  believe  in  platonics  even 
at  the  instigation  of  a  supper. 

Mrs.  Loosely  gave  very  good 
suppers,  and  her  champagne  did  n't 
absolutely  require  medical  attend- 
ance next  morning.  '  Mr.  Loosely, 
who  did  something  in  the  bill-dis- 
counting line,  was  supposed  to  get 
it  at  sales,  or  take  it  as  part  payment 
of  usurious  interest. 

In  any  case  it  was  always  there, 
and  any  one  could  see  the  gold  foil, 
even  if  the  brand  was  unknown  in 
the  market. 

So  Mrs.  Loosely  was  "  at  Home  " 
this  June  night,  and  had  sent  out 
cards  three  weeks  before,  stating  the 
fact.  Northerton  was  not  so  over- 
burdened with  engagements  that  it 
needed  very  long  notice.  Three 
weeks  was  considered  long  enough. 
At  least  Mrs.  Loosely  and  Mrs.  Col- 
onel Sassepool  never  gave  more,  and 
they  represented  the  haut  ton  of  the 
district,  and  were  supposed  to  live  on 


130  B  1>u0banO  of  flo  Umportance 

the  lines  of  the  World,  and  Truth, 
and  the  Morning  Post. 

So  the  drums  beat  and  the 
trumpets  sounded,  and  Northerton 
donned  its  best  gowns,  and  the 
Anglo-Indian  contingent  told  each 
other  they  were  " pucca"  or  some- 
thing to  that  effect,  and  brought  out 
wonderful  stores  of  beetle  trimming 
and  embroidery,  and  jewels  that  had 
always  been  presents  from  rajahs,  and 
scarfs  and  laces  that  represented 
"  loot,"  and  smelt  of  sandal  or  cam- 
phor wood.  They  always  crowded 
together  and  talked  very  fast,  as  if  to 
compensate  for  years  in  Calcutta  or 
Bombay,  where  speech  had  only  been 
known  as  a  necessity,  and  never  de- 
veloped into  recreation,  except  in 
very  cold  weather  at  hill  stations. 

They  said  doubtless  Mrs.  Loosely 
considered  herself  a  "hurra  mem- 
sahib"  and  then  gave  that  little  fat 
chuckle  which  distinguishes  the 
Anglo-Indian,  and  is  their  sole  idea 
of  mirthful  expansion.  Then  they 
compared  the  rooms  and  the  enter- 
tainment generally  with  their  own 


rooms  and  their  own  entertainments 
in  Calcutta — of  course  to  their  own 
advantage — and  shook  their  heads 
regretfully  over  past  glories  when  the 
rupee  meant  its  currency  value  and 
they  had  each  had  their  own  kitmutgar 
to  attend  to  their  wants  when  they 
went  to  a  dinner  party. 

Mrs.  Loosely  hated  the  Anglo- 
Indian  contingent,  but  she  was 
obliged  to  ask  it  to  her  parties  be- 
cause it  was  impossible  to  avoid 
knowing  it.  Besides,  it  was  mostly 
rich,  and  gave  good  dinners  ! 

Mrs.  Loosely  always  professed  to 
be  independent  of  the  vox  populi. 
The  dread  words,  "  they  say,"  had 
no  fears  for  her.  But  all  the  same 
she  had  a  wholesome  awe  of  Mrs. 
Grundy,  who,  in  her  way,  represents 
that  voice,  and  knowing  how  she 
secretly  outraged  that  good  lady's 
code  of  morals  she  openly  professed 
the  greatest  regard  for  her. 

A  few  choice  spirits,  with  the  same 
instincts  and  the  same  code  of  mo- 
rality as  herself,  understood  her  rea- 
sons and  agreed  with  them.  .  If  they 


laughed,  it  was  behind  her  back,  and 
she  returned  the  compliment. 

"  Who  is  it,  dear  ?  .  .  ."the  choice 
spirits  asked  each  other  to-night. 

They  had  failed  to  recognise  the 
"  annexation  "  by  the  usual  signs. 
He  was  not  hovering  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Mrs.  Loosely's  gorgeous 
train,  which  combined  primrose  satin 
and  real  duchesse  lace,  and  had  cost 
more  money  than  she  liked  to  remem- 
ber, or  intended  to  pay.  Neither 
was  he  discoverable  in  judiciously 
screened  corners  of  stairways  and 
balconies,  detaining  her  for  a  whisper 
or  receiving  a  command.  It  was 
very  odd  and  very  unusual,  but  they 
tried  in  vain  to  "  place  "  him. 

Then  a  particularly  dear  friend 
observed  that  there  was  an  anxious 
look  in  Mrs.  Loosely's  eye,  a  slight 
frown  on  her  brow  as  the  rooms 
filled  and  names  were  announced  and 
the  hour  grew  late. 

There  was  the  usual  music — more 
or  less  bad.  Mrs.  Loosely  sang  in 
her  shrill,  tuneless  soprano  that  she 
was  "  Waiting,"  at  which  the  choice 


B  •fousbanD  of  flo  flmportance  133 

spirits  cackled  and  said  "  they 
thought  as  much."  The  little  baby- 
faced  woman  in  a  grey  gown  to  match 
her  curls,  recited  as  she  was  always 
expected  to  do,  one  of  her  pathetic 
little  pieces  about  precocious  chil- 
dren who  die  and  go  to  angels  and 
gardens  of  eternal  bloom,  and  every 
one  said  it  was  "  really  charming," 
and  what  a  dear,  clever  little  thing 
she  was,  and  how  could  she  remem- 
ber so  many  lovely  pieces  ! 

Then  a  burly  man  thundered  out 
the  "  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade," 
and  a  dapper  little  military  gentle- 
man, who  was,  in  fact,  Colonel  Sasse- 
pool,  sang  an  Irish  song,  which  was 
much  applauded  and  badly  accom- 
panied. 

Miss  Eugenia  Agra,  a  professional 
lady  who  came  without  terms,  and 
was  longing  for  supper,  played  a 
noisy  composition  largely  composed 
of  octaves. 

Then  every  one  talked,  and  Mrs. 
Loosely  got  near  the  door  and  was 
suddenly  seen  to  start,  and,  yes, 
absolutely  to  blush.  The  choice 


i34  21  twsbanO  of  1Ro  flmportance 

spirits  nodded  to  one  another  and 
telegraphed,  "  He  has  come  !  "  and 
then  looked  unconscious  and  only 
saw  the  door  through  lowered  eyelids. 
They  knew  feminine  ways,  and  even 
determined  not  to  give  Mrs.  Loosely 
the  satisfaction  of  even  perceiving 
the  new  arrival  was  young,  good- 
looking,  and  excellent  style. 

But  nothing  escaped  them.  Not 
the  confidential  whisper,  the  up- 
turned glance,  the  wave  of  the  fan, 
the  flutter  of  a  flower-petal  on  her 
corsage,  which  was  as  de'collete'e  as  a 
Greuze  picture,  and  left  little  to  the 
imagination,  and  less  to  the  material. 
They  knew  every  trick  and  its  worth. 
They  had  imitated  a  good  many 
themselves,  but  never,  so  they  de- 
clared in  confidence,  quite  so  un- 
blushingly  and  boldly  as  Mrs.  Loosely 
proved  herself  capable  of  doing. 

Meanwhile,  under  cover  of  the 
Broadwood's  thunder,  Mrs.  Loosely 
held  arch  and  seductive  converse. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come,  .  .  . 
and  as  nice  to  hit  it  off  just  when  all 
the  tiresome  '  receiving'  business  is 


H  twsbano  of  Ho  Importance  135 

over,"  she  said.  "  I  have  n't  had  a 
moment  to  myself,  but  now  I  can 
afford  a  little  treat,  and  give  you  ten 
minutes.  Let  us  sit  out  here.  It  is 
cooler  than  the  room." 

"Out  here  "  was  a  little  corner  of 
the  landing,  dimly  lit,  delightfully 
cushioned,  and  calculated  not  to 
betray  toilette  secrets.  Mrs.  Loosely 
had  tested  its  convenience  often. 

He  took  the  seat.  He  could  not 
very  well  help  doing  so,  and  met  a 
glance  of  bold  femininity  that  seemed 
to  suggest  many  possibilities. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  very  late,"  he 
said,  rather  stupidly.  "  But  I  had  a 
rehearsal,  and  the  hansom  certainly 
did  n't  attempt  the  distance  in  the 
fifteen  minutes  you  promised." 

She  felt  an  indefinable  coldness 
in  the  air,  the  same  inscrutable  some- 
thing that  had  already  warned  her 
that  Blake  Beverley  was  not  inflam- 
mable, though  an  Irishman,  and  less 
ready  to  meet  a  woman  half-way 
than  she  had  credited  any  man  with 
being. 

"  Perhaps,"  she   said,   giving  him 


136  n  Ibusband  of  1fto  flmportance 

an  available  loophole,"  the  way  seemed 
longer  than  it  really  is.  You  have 
never  been  here  before  ? " 

"  No,  but  University  Gardens  is 
further.  Have  you  any  of  our  mutual 
friends  here  to-night  ? " 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Rashleigh  set  ? 
Certainly  not.  We  don't  hit  it  off. 
...  I  like  women  to  be  women. 
Soft  and  pleasing,  and  all  that,  you 
know.  .  .  .  I  'm  not  a  bit  strong- 
minded — myself." 

Another  glance.  But  he  only 
thought  how  small  her  eyes  were, 
and  how  obviously  darkened,  and 
wished  she  would  not  sit  quite  so 
close  to  him.  He  surveyed  the  tips 
of  his  patent  leather  shoes,  and  won- 
dered which  is  the  bigger  fool — the 
man  who  won't  see  what  a  woman  is 
driving  at,  or  the  man  who  sees  it 
and  accepts — consequences.  He  was 
keen-sighted,  but  not  at  all  inclined 
for  consequences.  Mrs.  Loosely  had 
fairly  pestered  him  into  coming  to 
her  party,  and  he  had  yielded,  but 
he  was  annoyed  with  himself  for 
doing  so  now. 


a  twsbanfc  of  tto  Importance  137 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  I  did  n't 
mean  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh.  I  never 
expected  to  find  her  here.  I  meant 
the  people  we  discussed  at  Madame 
Rosenberg's  the  first  time  I  met  you." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  go  to  Jerusalem,  but 
I  don't  invite  it  to  me.  The  worst 
of  giving  a  party  is  the  'weeding 
out '  process.  It 's  impossible  to  ask 
every  one  you  know,  and  those  you 
don't  ask  get  offended." 

"  Is  that  professional  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  a  crash  of  chords  thundered  from 
the  adjoining  room. 

"  The  performer  ?  Yes.  Do  you 
care  about  music  ?  " 

"  If  it 's  good.  By  the  way,  didn't 
you  tell  me  you  sang?" 

"  I  have  sung  to-night.  I  can't 
give  myself  away  too  often.", 

She  spoke  as  if  her  singing  had 
been  the  thing  of  the  evening.  Prob- 
ably she  considered  it  so.  She  affect- 
ed to  know  a  great  deal  about  music, 
and  had  once  received  instruction 
from  an  Italian  professor.  He  gave 
her  twelve  lessons  and  received  three 
guineas.  He  then  advised  her  not 


138  B  1>usban&  of  "Wo  Importance 

to  pursue  the  accomplishment.  On 
the  strength  of  this  she  told  every 
one  she  had  studied  the  pure  Italian 
method,  and  screeched  arias  and 
bravuras  with  a  vile  pronunciation 
and  soul-felt  confidence. 

"  Oh,  you  must  sing  again,"  en- 
treated Blake  Beverley,  "  As  I  've 
been  so  unfortunate  as  to  miss  it." 

"  I  will  sing  to  you  some  other 
time,"  she  said,  dropping  her  eyes, 
which  was  not  an  effective  proceed- 
ing owing  to  the  shortness  of  the 
lashes  and  the  undeniable  crow's 
feet  at  the  side. 

"  I  like  a  sympathetic  hearer,  and 
\feel  you  would  be  that.  You  are 
young  enough  to  be  enthusiastic." 

"  I  'm  sure  that  "s  Rubenstein,"  he 
said,  affecting  an  interest  in  the 
rattle  of  octaves — "  sounds  like  one 
of  his  '  studies.'  Wonderfully  well 
played,  really." 

He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  The 
music  was  over.  Surely  Mrs.  Loosely 
would  return  to  her  guests,  and  he 
might  escape.  He  little  knew  the 
tactics  of  that  lady. 


a  1>usban&  of  1Ro  flmportance  139 

They  went  into  the  room  side  by 
side,  and  on  one  pretence  or  another 
she  kept  him  beside  her.  She  in- 
troduced him  to  one  or  two  people, 
then  whisked  him  off  again  before 
he  could  say  half  a  dozen  words. 
She  was  intensely  vain,  and  yet  so 
afraid  of  being  the  dupe  of  her  own 
vanity  that  she  hated  to  introduce 
one  of  her  "  annexations "  to  any 
other  woman. 

She  distrusted  men,  but  she  dis- 
trusted her  own  sex  more. 

Blake  Beverley  watched  her  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  paraded, 
and  was  half  amused  and  half  dis- 
gusted, and  thought  what  was  the 
use  of  women  standing  up  and  laud- 
ing their  sex  if  this  type  were  to 
exist  and  be  an  ever-visible  proof  of 
innate  worthlessness  and  weakness  ? 

"  By  the  way,  I  "ve  not  been  intro- 
duced to  Mr.  Loosely,"  he  said  at 
length.  "  You  told  me  you  had  a 
husband,  and  though  they  're  not  of 
much  account  in  these  days,  I  should 
like  to  see  him." 

Mrs.  Loosely  stared.     Such   a  re- 


140  a  tmsbano  of  mo  flmportance 

quest  was  altogether  unusual,  and 
distasteful. 

"  Oh,  he  's  somewhere  about,"  she 
answered,  with  visible  annoyance. 
"  He  does  n't  care  much  for  parties. 
We  've  very  little  in  common." 

She  attempted  a  sigh,  and  the  air 
of  the  misunderstood  wife.  Blake 
Beverley  laughed. 

"  It 's  rather  odd,"  he  said,  "  how 
few  of  the  present-day  husbands 
have  anything  in  common  with  their 
wives  !  Do  you  think  marriage  be- 
gins with  Delusion  and  terminates 
in  Discovery  ?  From  the  way  wo- 
men speak  of  their  lawful  possessors, 
it  leaves  one  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
a  '  husband  '  is  a  male  creature  or 
only  an  appendage  on  which  to  hang 
a  name  and  throw  off  liabilities." 

Mrs.  Loosely  bit  her  lip. 

"Husbands  are  an  awful  nuisance," 
she  said.  "  A  girl  marries  a  man  not 
knowing  what  he  's  like,  and  then  has 
to  live  her  life  repenting  it." 

"  Well,  most  of  them  seem  to  find 
the  repentance  rather  amusing." 

"We    don't    show    our     hearts," 


a  tmsbanD  of  Ho  Importance  141 

said  Mrs.  Loosely,  pathetically. 
"  We  keep  a  smile  for  the  world,  but 
a  tear  for  our  hours  of  solitude." 

"  Point  out  Mr.  Loosely,  and  I  '11 
tell  you  whether  you  've  shed  many 
tears  on  his  account." 

"  How  you  do  harp  on  that  string  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  fairly  losing  her  tem- 
per. "  He  's  not  in  the  room." 

"  Another  failing  of  the  modern 
husband,"  remarked  Blake  Beverley  ; 
"  or  is  it — consideration  ?  He  feels 
in  the  way,  and  effaces  himself.  The 
modern  wife  likes  a  platform  to  her- 
self." 

"  That,  I  suppose,  is  an  extract 
from  your  dear  Mrs.  Rashleigh's 
speeches  ? " 

"  Why  do  you  call  her  my  dear 
Mrs.  Rashleigh  ?  "  he  asked  coolly. 
"  It 's  flattering,  but  not  correct." 

"  You  appear  to  have  moulded 
your  views  on  hers,"  she  said  crossly. 
"  I  thought  Irishmen  were  not 
straight-laced  ? " 

Her  eyes  flashed  interrogation  and 
challenge.  His  were  quite  unread- 
able. 


i42  a  twsbano  of  Ho  Importance 

"  I  assure  you,"  he  said,  "  there  is 
no  race  so  misunderstood.  We  are 
really  prejudiced  in  favour  of  that 
present-day  anomaly,  the  virtue  of 
women.  It's  one  of  our  few  pre- 
rogatives, and  we  cling  to  it." 

She  gave  one  of  her  shrill  laughs. 
"  We  're  getting  quite  prosy,  I  de- 
clare. It 's  like  Exeter  Hall.  Do 
you  know,  I  'm  quite  sick  of  this 
eternal  talk  of  Woman.  It  bores 
most  of  us,  I  think." 

"  That  is  flattering  to  the  Wise  Sis- 
terhood who  are  working  so  hard  in 
your  interests,"  he  remarked. 

"  But,"  she  said  persuasively,  with 
another  glance,  "  don't  you  think  a 
just  ordinary  woman — soft,  lovable, 
and  not  too  particular,  you  kaow — 
is  much  nicer  than  those  lecturing, 
strong-minded  creatures  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  But  they  're 
rather  rare  nowadays." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  with  an  arch 
look.  "  You  ought  n't  to  say  that. 
J  'm  sure  women  could  never  be 
anything  but  nice  to  you.  Oh,  dear, 
you  're  making  me  forget  my  duties. 


B  DusbanO  of  Ho  flmportance  143 

I  have  to  send  these  people  down  to 
supper.  .  .  .  No,  not  you.  I  want  you 
to  take  me  later  on." 

"  Then  I  '11  go  and  talk  to  my 
little  reciting  friend." 

Mrs.  Loosely  .  nodded  acquies- 
cence. Grey  hair  in  sausage  rolls  and 
an  affected  manner  could  n't  be  very 
dangerous.  She  allowed  him  to  es- 
cape. 


Some  ten  minutes  later  she  went 
to  look  for  him  while  the  "  Frumps  " 
and  notabilities  were  busy  feeding. 
Little  Miss  Greenaway  was  sitting 
in  a  corner  with  a  forlorn  expression 
and  a  hungry  interior. 

"  Your  friend  Mr.  Beverley  has 
just  gone,"  she  said  plaintively,  in 
answer  to  Mrs.  Loosely's  look  of  in- 
quiry ;  "  he  left  me  quite  suddenly  ; 
he  said  he  had  a  bad  headache,  and 
I  was  to  make  his  apologies  to  you." 

Mrs.  Loosely's  pale  lips  tightened 
and  shut  in  a  word  expressive,  but 

not  strictly  feminine.  It  was  "  D 

tion." 


XL 


THROUGH    A    MAN*S    EYES. 


--  "  Blake  Beverley 
drew  a  long,  deep  breath  as 
the  door  closed,  and  he  felt 
the  cool  night  air  upon  his  face. 
"  Well,  if  I  ever  go  there  again  !  "  he 
added,  as  he  turned  up  the  hill  lead- 
ing from  Arum  Gardens  towards  the 
open  thoroughfare  commanding  the 
district  of  Northerton  proper. 

He   paused   to    light   a   cigarette, 

glancing  back  at  the  square  on  which 

a  glow  of  light  was   falling  from  a 

balcony  hung  with  Chinese  lanterns. 

Some   one   was    playing   a   waltz. 

He  could  hear  the  air  distinctly.     It 

was  "  After  the  Ball."    He  leaned  his 

arms  on   the   low    iron  railings  and 

stood  there  listening  and  moralising. 

144 


a  tmsbanD  of  1Ro  importance  145 

"  Three  types,"  he  thought,  "  and 
each  so  different.  It  is  only  a  wo- 
man like  that "  (he  looked  towards 
the  draped  and  lighted  balcony,  little 
imagining  that  its  decorations  had 
been  carried  out  solely  in  his  honour) 
"  who  can  make  one  feel  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  efforts  like  Mrs. 
Rashleigh's.  How  well  they  judge 
each  other,  .  .  .  and  what  a  con- 
trast !  .  .  .  Bird  of  Prey,  indeed  ; 
but  there  is  something  snake-like 
and  venomous  about  her  too.  A 
dangerous  friend,  and  a  still  more 
dangerous  enemy.  .  .  .  Well,  I  was 
a  fool  to  come,  but,  'pon  my  word, 
she  fairly  drove  me  into  it.  What 
on  earth  possesses  such  a  woman  to 
think  I'm  attracted  by  her  !  She  is 
just  the  type  I  most  dislike — bold, 
unfeminine,  loud,  overdressed,  of- 
fensive to  taste  and  sight.  I  pity 
her  husband  !  Good  Lord  !  how 
many  men  say  that  of  women  nowa- 
days !  Marriage  will  be  out  of  the 
question  soon,  and  the  married  wo- 
man is  solely  to  blame  for  it.  She 
is  the  girl's  worst  foe.  Was  the 


146  &  iDusbano  of flo  importance 

Loosely  woman  ever  a  girl — ever 
that  pure,  soft  thing  of  innocence 
and  malleability  that  a  man  longs  to 
love  and  cherish  for  himself  ?  " 

Then  he  laughed,  and  tossed  aside 
the  finished  cigarette. 

"  Nowadays,  when  he  marries  the 
innocence  and  malleability  it  is  only 
to  benefit  some  other  man,  who  hears 
of  a  vie  incomprise,  and  is  offered  the 
office  of — consoler." 

He  turned  away,  the  soft  waltz- 
music  still  floating  on  the  still  night 
air,  and  haunting  him  persistently  as 
the  hansom  took  him  back  to  Wo- 
burn  Place. 

The  events  of  the  evening  had 
annoyed  him  excessively.  He  could 
not  understand  that  curious  logic  of 
the  femme  galante  which  appeared 
to  class  men  of  any  artistic  profes- 
sion as  public  game,  to  be  shot  at, 
trapped,  or  openly  fought  for  by 
feminine  sportsmen. 

Singer,  actor,  painter,  writer — they 
could  all  tell  the  same  tale  !  All — did 
honour  not  forbid — publish  records 
of  effrontery,  indecency,  bold,  un- 


S  IbusbanD  of  "Wo  importance  147 

blushing  pursuit — that  called  down 
shame  on  the  name  of  women,  and 
make  their  code  of  morality  a  thing 
for  contempt. 

"  I  've  only  spoken  three  times  to 
the  woman,"  he  thought  disgustedly. 
"  And  yet  I  Ve  had  about  twenty  let- 
ters from  her,  half  a  dozen  invitations 
which  were  really  appointments,  and 
two  visits  to  my  rooms  on  the  most  pal- 
try excuse.  A  good  thing  I  was  n't 
at  home.  .  .  .  And  yet  women  expect 
men  to  respect  them,  and  applaud 
their  cry  for  '  Rights.'  Heaven 
knows  they  've  taken  most  of  our 
provinces  from  us  already.  I  don't 
know  where  they  '11  stop." 

Then  his  brow  clouded.  "  She — 
is  so  different,  so  straight,  and 
honest,  and  clean-minded.  By  Jove  ! 
that 's  getting  rare.  Women  take  up 
our  lowest  stories,  point  our  jests, 
and  want  to  claim  kinship  of  vice 
with  us !  No  man  would  dare 
tell  a  doubtful  story  to  Mrs  Rash- 
leigh,  and  yet  she  's  so  fearless.  She 
calls  sin  by  its  proper  name,  and 
does  n't  spare  the  sinner.  But — 


i43  a  f)U8ban&  of  flo  Importance 

faugh  !  .  .  .  What  broom  in  Wo- 
man's hands  can  ever  sweep  out  the 
Augean  stables  of  Modern  Immo- 
rality ?  What  lash  of  tongue  or 
scourge  of  pen  is  strong  enough  to 
flay  that  immodest  sisterhood  whom 
Society  has  canonised  ;  who  has 
studied  adultery  as  a  fine  art,  and 
woven  moral  ties  and  infamous 
pleasures  into  a  chain  of  honour ; 
who  parades  her  person,  her  desires, 
her  lovers  with  the  impudent  ef- 
frontery of  the  harlot,  and,  unlike 
that  poor  victim  of  our  laws  and 
lawlessness,  has  neither  excuse,  nor 
scruple." 

"  Why,  that 's  a  bit  of  Rashleigh's 
play  again  !  By  Jove  !  he  does  hit 
hard.  I  wonder  what  his  wife  will 
think  of  it  ?  It  certainly  shows  her 
the  sex  she  is  championing  in  a  very 
different  light.  The  '  Smart  Modern 
Woman  '  and  the  Emancipated  vic- 
tim are  rather  opposite  types.  .  .  . 
Yet  both  are  correct,  I  doubt  not. 
...  It 's  very  odd  I  should  have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  both,  and 
just  at  the  very  time  when  I  'm  go- 


S  tmsbano  of  Ho  Importance  149 

ing  to  act  up  to  them.  Lady  War- 
render  and  Mrs.  Fred  Golightly  are 
certainly  contrasts,  but  decidedly 
life-types  !  " 

He  leaned  back  and  half  closed 
his  eyes,  and  began  to  murmur  over 
his  part  till  the  cab  stopped. 

It  only  wanted  a  week  now  of 
the  production.  The  scenery  was 
complete,  and  two  dress  rehearsals 
would  ensure  the  necessary  smooth- 
ness of  the  performance  as  a  whole. 
Manager  and  company  were  equally 
delighted  with  the  play,  and  equally 
certain  it  would  "  run." 

It  was  a  comedy  with  just  that 
undercurrent  of  pathos  that  goes 
home  to  the  heart — pathos  expressed 
rather  than  spoken  ;  a  piece  that 
breathed  life  ;  that  was  caustic  to 
the  shams  of  the  day,  yet  not  too 
bitter  to  the  shammers  ;  that  play- 
fully satirised  Society  without  abso- 
lutely lecturing  it  on  its  incurable 
idiocy ;  that  showed  redeeming 
points  even  in  weak  characters,  and 
noble  instincts  buried  under  the 
dead-weight  of  worldly  follies — fol- 


iso  B  Ibusbano  of  IRo  importance 

lies  which  have  been  condemned  and 
condoned  since  the  day  that  fig- 
leaves  ceased  to  be  a  fashionable 
article  of  attire. 

Blake  Beverley  enjoyed  every 
word  of  it,  ...  had  thrown  himself 
heart  and  soul  into  the  part,  and  by 
his  intense  vitality  and  enthusiasm 
awakened  kindred  feelings  of  enjoy- 
ment in  the  other  actors. 

The  piece  lived  from  beginning  to 
end. 

The  brilliance  of  the  dialogue,  the 
rapid  cut  and  thrust,  the  familiar 
allusions,  the  scathing  satire,  were 
just  what  Society  loves.  The  plot 
was  simple  but  ingenious.  The 
dramatist  of  the  present  day  makes 
no  great  demands  on  his  audience. 
He  prefers  to  amuse  rather  than 
mystify.  The  success  of  the  Mod- 
ern Play  depends  on  light  touches 
and  brilliant  dialogue,  and  that 
sense  of  realism  which  shows  lit- 
tle difference  between  the  draw- 
ing-room of  Society  and  that  of  the 
Stage,  and  is  therefore  so  "  delight- 
fully true  to  life,"  that  Society  flocks 


a  tmsbanfc  of  Ho  flmportance  151 

to  see  it,  and  the  Great  Public,  to 
whom  Society  is  but  an  infinitesimal 
proportion,  follows  on  the  heels  of 
its  leaders,  to  criticise  their  doings, 
and  marvel  at  their  dresses. 

But  underlying  his  enthusiasm  re- 
specting "  The  New  Woman,"  which 
was  the  title  Mr.  Hex  Rashleigh  had 
bestowed  on  his  "  Comedy  of  Mod- 
ern Errors,"  was  a  very  serious  and 
earnest  desire — the  desire  to  rec- 
oncile two  opposed  yet  noble  na- 
tures— the  desire  to  bring  into 
harmonious  agreement  opinions  that 
were  at  present  arrayed  in  wilful 
misapprehension. 

Both  had  in  them  so  much  that 
was  admirable,  so  much  that  was 
noble,  lofty,  high-minded,  and  yet 
both  struggled  and  suffered  apart, 
when  they  might  have  worked  so 
admirably  and  usefully  together. 

He  knew  the  husband  loved  the 
wife  with  an  intense  devotion,  and 
a  reverent  admiration  for  her  gifts 
of  mind  and  her  noble  if  mistaken 
ideals.  Of  the  wife's  feelings  he 
could  not  so  well  judge.  But  he 


152  a  •fcusbanfc  of  mo  Ifmportance 

felt  sure  that  to  find  she  had 
married  a  man  who  could  lift  him- 
self above  the  common  herd,  who 
also  could  think,  work,  and  act  in 
consonance  with  such  abilities,  would 
awaken  her  long-closed  sympathies, 
and  open  her  heart  to  that  one  great 
lesson  Life  had  still  to  teach — Love 
— Love  of  some  sort — the  love  that 
can  make  a  home,  and  bring  even 
personal  failings  and  weakness  into 
the  soft  glow  of  human  affections. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  Marion 
Rashleigh  had  never  lived  a  woman's 
natural  life.  She  appeared  to  have 
held  herself  aloof  from  it,  and  then 
learnt  to  despise  it. 

She  lived  in  a  difficult  age — an  age 
of  communists  and  clamourers  and 
too-liberal  thinkers.  Their  incessant 
restlessness  had  affected  her,  and 
she  had  adopted  many  of  their  the- 
ories and  armed  herself  with  much 
of  their  intolerance.  Between  this 
region  and  that  next  strata  where  no 
one  even  thinks  at  all,  except  it  be 
of  the  feeble  excitement  of  pleasure, 
she  had  placed  herself  on  a  foothold 


B  l3usban&  of  Ho  Importance  153 

of  Endeavour.  As  yet  Endeavour 
had  been  a  thankless  taskmaster  who 
bade  her  make  bricks  without  straw, 
and  grumbled  unceasingly  at  the 
quality  of  her  work. 

Young  as  he  was,  Blake  Beverley 
was  clear-sighted  and  a  good  judge 
of  character.  He  owed  this  in  some 
measure  to  his  nationality,  but  in  a 
greater  measure  to  his  art.  His  life 
had  been  varied — full  of  contrasts, 
difficulties,  and  opposition.  Hard 
work  had  alternated  with  delightful 
gleams  of  leisure  when  he  could  sit 
alone  and  contemplate  Fame — such 
fame  as  the  author  and  the  actor  and 
the  artist  behold  from  afar — a  Prom- 
ised Land  whose  glory  looks  all  the 
more  beautiful  because  it  seems  im- 
possible to  obtain  a  nearer  view. 

No  class  is  at  once  so  hopeful  and 
hopeless,  so  quickly  elated,  so  rap- 
idly despondent.  Yet  to  no  class  are 
the  ephemeral  triumphs  of  the  hour 
so  delightfully  prophetic — perhaps 
because  they  are  so  dearly  bought. 

If  Blake  Beverley  had  not  been 
unselfish  he  would  have  been  specu- 


154  B  twsbanfc  of  1fto  flmpprtance 

lating  now  on  his  own  chance  of  suc- 
cess. It  is  not  given  to  every  young 
actor  to  have  a  thoroughly  satisfac- 
tory part  for  a  first  appearance  on 
the  London  boards.  They  have 
been  known  to  anticipate  Fame  from 
a  footman's  livery  and  the  handling 
of  a  plated  salver. 

Blake  Beverley  was  a  little  more 
ambitious  than  this  ;  yet  it  was  of 
the  author  he  thought,  and  rarely  of 
himself — the  author  who  was  as 
timorous  as  a  school-girl  over  her 
first  essay  of  versification,  and  as 
nervous  as  a  race-horse  owner  with 
an  untried  colt  ;  the  author  who  for 
years  had  submerged  his  own  talents, 
desires,  ambitions,  in  deference  to  a 
wife  who  scarcely  noted  his  exist- 
ence, who  looked  upon  him  as  a 
mere  nonentity  because  he  was  only 
patient,  and  troubled  herself  not  one 
whit  over  his  idiosyncrasies. 

So  many  go  through  life  with  a 
stone  wall  of  incomprehension  be- 
tween their  respective  natures — a  bar- 
rier that,  slight  at  first,  grows  higher 
and  stronger  with  every  year  they  live. 


•fcusbanfc  of  flo  Importance  155 


Sometimes  Accident  or  Death 
razes  it  to  the  ground,  and  lets  in  the 
glad  light  of  day;  but  very  rarely  does 
such  light  shine  while  Time  and  Life 
may  atone  for  the  long  darkness  or  re- 
joice in  the  sunshine  of  happiness. 

Marion  Rashleigh,  going  about  the 
labours  she  had  set  herself,  striving 
persistently  for  that  ideal  which 
looked  so  glorious,  and  was,  alas  !  so 
impossible,  was  becoming  daily  more 
and  more  conscious  of  the  "  some- 
thing" lacking  in  it  all,  and  in  her- 
self. An  element  of  warmth,  of 
tenderness,  a  longing  to  lean  on  an- 
other's strength  and  say,  "  Guide — 
and  I  will  follow." 

It  was  treason  to  her  preconceived 
ideas,  treason  to  the  noble  army  of 
Emancipators  whose  motto  was, 
"  Follow,  while  I  guide." 

The  sense  of  her  own  power  had 
grown  less  confident.  An  insight 
into  richer  and  more  rational  possi- 
bilities had  lessened  her  self-esteem 
and  awakened  a  curious  feeling  of 
distrust  in  her  mission. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been 


156  a  iMisbanD  of  Ifto  flmportance 

groping  in  a  valley  without  ever  lift- 
ing her  eyes  to  the  noble  hill-tops 
that  surrounded  it.  She  wanted  to 
climb  those  hills  at  last,  to  escape 
from  the  rank  miasma  of  the  lower 
world  and  get  into  a  purer,  clearer, 
and  more  spiritual  atmosphere.  The 
despair  that  is  inseparable  from  all 
great  aims  had  fastened  on  her  soul, 
and  shown  her  the  impossibility  of 
the  task  she  had  attempted. 

Who  can  make  one  long  straight 
level  road  of  Life,  purge  the  unclean- 
ness  of  Human  Nature,  crush  out  the 
Beast  and  elevate  the  Angel  ? 

Not  any  Human  Effort,  however 
strong,  or  however  worthy. 

A  little  we  may  do — we  who  sorrow 
— not  for  sexual  weakness,  but  for 
Life's  ordained  martyrdom  ;  a  little, 
just  to  point  to  the  error,  to  lament 
the  fall,  to  entreat  and  warm,  but  not 
condemn. 

The  Greatest  Human  Example 
that  life  has  ever  known  preached 
Pity  and  Pardon.  Shall  we,  so  far 
below  His  virtues  and  His  faith,  do 
less  ? 


XII. 

A    "  FIRST     NIGHT." 

Piccadilly  was  a  charming 
1  little  theatre  which  had  started 
into  life  with  a  "  silver  spoon  " 
of  success  in  its  greedy  little  maw, 
and  flourished  and  prospered  accord- 
ingly. 

Its  owner  and  manager  was  also  its 
leading  actor,  and  stood  unrivalled 
as  an  exponent  of  elegant  comedy. 
His  name  spelt  popularity,  and  his 
taste  was  a  synonym  for  perfection. 

Armed  with  a  keen  insight  into 
the  virtues  and  vanities,  uses  and 
abuses  of  Fashionable  Life  and  nine- 
teenth century  morality,  he  rang  the 
changes  on  these  with  skill  little 
short  of  marvellous.  A  gentleman 
au  bout  des  angles,  a  wit  and  a  scholar, 


•* 


158  21 1busban&  of  "Wo  flmportancc 

it  is  little  wonder  that  his  name 
ranked  high  in  the  list  of  celebrities, 
and  that  he  was  as  welcome  in  the 
drawing-rooms  of  Belgravia  as  in  the 
"  outer  "  world  of  Bohemia. 

Being  clever  and  cultivated  he 
favoured  both,  but  preferred  the  lat- 
ter. He  had  a  quick  eye  for  talent, 
and  by  happy  chance  it  had  lighted 
on  Blake  Beverley.  The  latter  was 
just  concluding  a  long  provincial 
engagement,  and  was  only  too  de- 
lighted to  accept  a  part  in  anew  play 
which  the  manager  was  thinking  of 
producing.  It  had  been  brought  to 
his  notice  in  course  of  conversation 
at  a  very  Bohemian  Club  indeed, 
where  the  members  drank  "  bitter  " 
or  half-and-half,  and  ate  nothing 
more  substantial  than  bread-and- 
cheese.  But  in  this  atmosphere  and 
under  this  regime  wit  seemed  to  flow 
apace,  and  there  it  was  that  "  Char- 
ley "  Wilton,  as  his  intimes  called 
him,  found  himself  cheek  by  jowl 
with  a  quiet,  sober-looking  individ- 
ual whose  quaint  stories  and  caustic 
speeches  kept  the  "  house  "  in  a  roar. 


a  twsbano  of  Wo  Importance  159 

Said  Charley,  in  a  moment  of  ex- 
pansion, "  My  dear  fellow,  that  in  a 
play  would  bring  all  London." 

Said  the  quiet  individual,  "  Here 
is  the  play  " — and  produced  Act  I. 

This  was  the  beginning.  Now 
after  long  wrangles,  delays,  battles 
with  the  company,  and  rows  with  the 
scene-painters  had  dawned  that  curi- 
ous electrical,  indescribable  occasion 
when  nerves  are  at  a  premium,  and 
excitement  is  the  presiding  god — a 
"  First  Night." 

First  nights  at  the  Piccadilly  were 
always  full  of  interest,  and  a  credit 
to  the  booking-office.  Every  box 
and  stall,  every  dress  circle  and  up- 
per circle  were  sold  long  before  the 
eventful  evening.  The  dresses  and 
jewelswould  not  have  disgraced  a  gala 
night  at  Covent  Garden,  and  the  floral 
decorations  were  a  dream  of  beauty. 

When  the  orchestra  commenced 
one  of  those  little  gems  for  which 
the  conductor  was  famous,  and  such 
as  no  other  theatrical  orchestra  ever 
dreamt  of  attempting,  the  pretty  little 
house  was  quite  full. 


Society  often  condescended  to  dine 
an  hour  earlier  in  order  to  be  pres- 
ent at  a  First  Night  of  "  Charley 
Wilton's."  They  were  unique,  and 
things  not  to  be  missed  or  lightly  re- 
garded. 

Besides,  he  was  so  original.  Who 
but  this  man  of  Luck  and  Enter- 
prise would  have  dreamt  of  produc- 
ing a  new  comedy  by  a  new  author 
of  whom  no  one  had  ever  heard,  and 
whom  no  one  could  say  anything 
about  ? 

After  judicious  "puffs"  in  society 
papers,  and  hints  at  the  price  of  the 
leading  actress's  gowns,  society  had 
languidly  inquired,  "  Who  wrote  the 
piece  ?  "  It  found  the  question  un- 
answerable, and  was  faintly  curious, 
as  is  the  manner  of  society,  when  it 
really  can't  find  out  what  it  wants. 

Belgravia  laid  traps  for  "  Charley  " 
in  the  shape  of  exquisite  luncheons, 
but  he  was  not  to  be  won  over. 

"  It 's  a  secret,"  he  said.  "  The 
man  won't  put  his  name  to  the  play, 
and  I  expect  I  '11  have  to  put  him  in 
charge  of  a  couple  of  policemen  on 


H  t>u0ban&  of  1Flo  Umpoctance  161 

the  night  to  get  him  there.  He 's 
sure  to  be  called,  and  he  well  deserves 
it  ;  but  a  more  modest,  nervous  fool 
it 's  never  been  my  lot  to  meet." 

Pretty  ladies  felt  more  curious  than 
ever.  "  Perhaps,"  they  suggested, 
"  a  woman  had  written  it.  Women 
did  everything  nowadays,  from  moun- 
taineering to  editing  medical  jour- 
nals ! " 

The  manager  shook  his  head.  "  No, 
it 's  no  woman's  work  this,  though 
your  sex  gets  it  hot.  However,  you 
must  judge  for  yourselves." 

And  here  they  were  to  judge  :  all 
the  pretty,  well-gowned,  frivolous 
throng  who  chirp  and  chatter  through 
life  as  if  the  "  season  "  meant  its  be- 
all  and  end-all. 

The  languid  club  dandies,  the 
Piccadilly  fldneurs,  the  swells  who 
proclaimed  themselves  "  stone  broke  " 
and  yet  were  faultlessly  dressed,  and 
never  dreamt  of  denying  themselves 
a  half-guinea  stall,  a  half-crown 
buttonhole,  or  an  almost  priceless 
Havannah.  There,  too,  were  the 
well-known  critics,  that  terrible  body 


i62  &  f3usban£>  of  1Ro  Umportance 

in  whose  power  it  lies  to  lift  to  fame 
or  dash  into  destruction  the  work  on 
which  a  fellow-creature's  life  and 
bread  may  depend.  There,  too,  the 
pit,  a  critical  and  business-like  mi- 
nority who  were  not  to  be  won  or 
bought  over,  but  determined  to  show 
if  they  liked  the  piece  or  not. 

In  fact,  the  audience  was  repre- 
sentative, and  offered  its  distinctive 
types  as  a  compliment  of  awakened 
interest. 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  and  Mrs. 
Despard  sat  together  in  a  small  box 
on  the  second  tier,  a  better  place  for 
seeing  the  stage  than  being  seen  of 
the  audience.  Their  gowns  were  as 
usual  distinctive  of  their  respective 
tastes. 

Mrs.  Despard's  was  a  delicious 
tone  of  pink,  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh's 
a  sombre  but  rich-coloured  harmony 
of  dead  gold  and  terra  cotta  brocade, 
It  was  cut  slightly  away  at  the  throat 
and  bordered  from  there  to  the 
shoulders  with  a  falling  collar  of  Ve- 
netian point.  She  looked  very  hand- 
some and  very  distinguished.  Excite- 


a  t>usban&  of  "Wo  Umportance  163 

ment  had  lent  a  slight  flush  to  her 
cheek  and  a  wonderful  glow  to  her 
deep  brown  eyes. 

From  time  to  time  she  exchanged 
bows  with  some  notable  or  celebrated 
person.  Occasionally  glasses  were 
turned  to  her,  and  people  said,  "  Oh, 
is  that  the  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  ? 
.  .  .  Did  n't  she  write  Gillian  ? 
and  has  n't  she  very  peculiar  views  ? " 

And  being  informed  that  she  was 
the  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh,  and  cer- 
tainly did  hold  peculiar  views,  they 
dropped  their  glasses  and  began  to 
criticise  each  other's  dresses. 

But  at  last  the  curtain  rose,  and 
attention  was  claimed  by  the  busi- 
ness of  the  evening. 

As  the  act  proceeded,  a  curious 
puzzled  look  came  into.  Mrs.  Hex 
Rashleigh's  eyes.  There  seemed 
something  familiar  about  the  speeches 
— something  strangely  like  those  she 
had  heard  of  late  from  Blake  Bev- 
erley,  and  once  from  her  own  hus- 
band. 

The  stage  husband,  Lord  War- 
render,  and  his  friend,  Captain 


164  B  IbusbanD  of  1fto  Umportance 

Blarney  O'Connor,  were  discussing 
the  position  of  the  former  in  his 
brief  experience  of  married  life. 
Lady  Warrender,  it  appeared,  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  an  Ameri- 
can woman  who  was  positively  rabid 
on  points  of  Sexual  Equality,  and 
the  long-enacted  tragedy  of  Woman's 
Wrongs.  This  woman,  Mrs.  Cor- 
nelius G.  Dobbs,  had  acquired  great 
influence  over  the  impulsive  Lady 
Warrender,  and  so  worked  upon  her 
feelings,  and  her  purse,  that  she 
made  her  husband's  life  wretched, 
besides  encroaching  largely  on  his 
means  in  order  to  support  the  various 
"  Guilds,"  "  Missions,"  and  "  Or- 
ganisations "  of  Mrs.  Cornelius  G. 
Dobbs. 

Lord  Warrender — a  good-natured 
if  somewhat  ordinary  man — was  made 
perfectly  miserable,  his  house  turned 
into  a  "meeting  place"  for  females 
of  strong  minds — and  stronger  voices. 
Comforts  he  had  none.  Friends 
were  drifting  rapidly  away  in  terror  of 
the  sex  who  denounced  them  on  every 
occasion.  Such  little  pleasures  as 


Zl  twsbanO  of  mo  Umportance  165 

a  smoke,  a  B.  and  S.,  or  an  occasional 
late  night  at  the  club,  were  held  up 
as  vices  of  the  worst  description.  His 
past  was  continually  being  brought 
up,  and  his  future  predicted,  but  no 
one  thought  of  the  martyrdom  he 
was  enduring  as  his  Present. 

Into  the  mette.  dropped,  like  a 
bomb-shell  of  discord,  a  friend  of  his 
youth  just  retired  from  active  service, 
a  rollicking,  jovial,  fun-loving,  dare- 
devil Irishman,  a  man  who  described 
himself  as  being  "  cared  for  by  too 
many  women  ever  to  find  time  to 
care  for  one  ;  "  a  man  who  entered 
his  friend's  beautiful  town  house  sure 
of  a  welcome,  and  anticipating  pleas- 
ant society,  and  found  only  a  victim 
cowed  by  infuriated  females,  and 
totally  ignored  by  the  wife  of  a  year. 

Long  and  earnest  was  .the  con- 
sultation between  the  two  men.  The 
Irishman  put  on  his  mettle,  advised 
a  total  "  turning  of  tables,"  and  drew 
out  a  plot  that  commended  itself  to 
every  man  in  the  audience  and  made 
the  women  exchange  glances. 

A  soft  ripple  of  laughter  escaped 


i66  a  fjusbanD  of  Ho  flmportance 

Mrs.  Despard's  lips.  "  Do  you  know, 
dear,"she  said,  "  it 's  rather  like  you." 

Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh  frowned  and 
bit  her  lip.  She  saw  the  likeness 
only  too  plainly.  But  vengeance 
was  at  hand.  Straightway  swept  onto 
the  stage,  gorgeously  gowned,  pretty 
as  a  picture  and  witty  as  a  Parisienne, 
the  Woman  of  the  Play — a  chattering, 
frivolous,  yet  delightful  creation  ;  a 
Frou-Frou  who  dares  all,  and  defies 
all,  who  is  naughty  to  her  finger  tips 
— in  speech — yet,  despite  the  type, 
straight  enough  in  action  ;  a  woman 
who  dissected  her  every  feeling  and 
emotion  with  the  most  delicious 
effrontery,  and  while  offending  every 
canon  of  taste,  yet  made  herself  en- 
chanting. 

She  had  come  to  call  on  Lady 
Warrender.  Not  finding  her  in  the 
drawing-room  she  had  wandered  into 
the  library  and  discovered  there 
an  old  friend  in  Captain  Blarney 
O'Connor. 

In  five  minutes  Mrs.  Fred  Go- 
lightly  seized  the  situation  and 
offered  herself  as  part  of  the  plot. 


"  You  tackle  the  women,  O'Con- 
nor," she  said,  "  leave  the  men  to 
me." 

"  And  where,"  asked  Lord  War- 
render,  "  do  I  come  in  ?  " 

"  You  '11  make  love  to  me,"  she 
said  coolly.  "  Real  love,  hot  love, 
mind  !  No  namby-pamby  stuff.  If 
you  can  rouse  up  a  spark  of  jealousy 
in  your  wife  you  case  is  n't  hopeless, 
and  if  she  gets  cross  so  much  the 
better.  Life  's  too  short  to  be  un- 
forgiving— after  thirty." 

"  Lady  Warrender  is  only  twenty- 
three,"  said  her  husband. 

"  Oh  !  so  much  the  better.  She 
hasn't  outlived  ideals.  You  must 
let  Blarney  there  play  up  to  her.  No 
woman  can  resist  him — in  the  moon- 
light." 

Lord  Warrender  looked  alarmed. 
"  I — I  did  n't  bargain  for  that,"  he 
said. 

"  Of  course  not  That 's  where 
the  fun  comes  in.  We  must  all  make 
sacrifices  in  a  good  cause.  I  have  to 
keep  my  temper  with  Mrs.  Cornelius 
G.  Dobbs.  Hitherto  we  have  only 


exchanged  discourteous  sniffs  !  You 
won't  let  her  order  me  out  of  the 
house,  will  you  ?  I  love  a  man  to  be 
masterful.  All  women  do,  though 
they  won't  say  so.  You  can't  respect 
a  dummy,  not  that  you  're  a  dum- 
my, but  you  're  in  a  good  way 
to  become  one.  Take  courage,  I 
won't  let  you  succeed." 

It  was  Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh's  turn 
to  glance  at  Mrs.  Despard. 

"  Do  you  know,  dear,"  she  said 
softly,  "  it  's — rather — like  you." 

Their  eyes  met.  Instinctively  they 
glanced  at  their  programmes. 

"  Anonymous,  I  do  declare  !  "  ex- 
claimed Veloutine,  savagely.  "  Some 
one  has  been  taking  us  off,  Marion. 
It  's  as  clear  as  daylight." 

Mrs.  Hex  Rash'leigh  was  silent. 
Her  attention  fled  back  to  the  stage, 
now  a  scene  of  animation. 

Lady  Warrender  and  Mrs.  Corne- 
lius G.  Dobbs  had  returned  from  the 
meeting.  They  entered  the  library, 
expecting  to  find  it  untenanted,  and 
discovered  Lord  Warrender  and  his 
friend  smoking,  and  Mrs.  Fred 


a  1>usban&  of  flo  IFmportance  169 

Golightly  perched  on  the  .arm  of  a 
chair,  displaying  faultless  ankles  and 
wonderful  boots. 

The  attempt  to  reconcile  school- 
girl friendship  with  her  new  principles 
made  Lady  Warrender  exquisitely 
embarrassed.  Stern,  denunciatory, 
condemning,  sat  Mrs.  Cornelius  G. 
Dobbs,  gazing  at  the  group,  and  deaf 
to  the  blandishments  of  the  Irishman. 
Mrs.  Golightly  asked  for  tea,  and 
annexed  Lord  Warrender.  Her  con- 
versation was  full  of  hints  of  "  other 
days,"  and  the  charms  and  chances 
of  widowhood.  Lady  Warrender 
grew  more  and  more  uncomfortable. 

In  vain  were  freezing  glances  and 
curt  speeches.  Mrs.  Golightly  rat- 
tled on  the  more  daringly.  She 
made  fun  of  "  views,"  and  tore 
Emancipation  into  shreds  with  her 
satires. 

Mrs.  Cornelius  G.  Dobbs  grew 
furious,  and  was  reminded  that  this 
was  not  her  house — yet. 

The  curtain  fell  on  an  irate  denun- 
ciation, to  which  the  only  answer 
was  a  peal  of  laughter,  rich,  riotous, 


1 70  a  IbusbanD  of  IRo  Umportance 

infectious,  that  sent  the  house  into 
kindred  mirth.  Lord  Warrender 
entreated  Mrs.  Golightly  and  the 
Irishman  to  come  back  to  dinner. 

"  Not  to-night,"  vetoed  his  wife, 
"  I  'm  engaged." 

"  I  'm  sorry,  my  dear,"  answered 
the  husband,  "  but  I  'm  not" 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  '11  come,"  said 
the  Woman.  "  We  're  so  indepen- 
dent now  we  don't  need  chaperones, 
and,  as  I  'm  a  host  in  myself,  you, 
Lord  Warrender,  can  play  hostess  ! 
Vive  la  liberte" !  " 

CURTAIN. 


XIII. 

THE   MORAL    OF    THE    PLAY. 

THE  comedy  rattled  along,  pro- 
ducing    complications,    tears, 
griefs,  laughter.    The  wife,  her 
heart  racked  by  jealousy,  saw  the  man 
she  loved  drifting  from  her  side,  and 
learnt,  by  the  light  of  another  woman's 
eyes,   to    read    a    character    whose 
strength   and   patience   and   fidelity 
she  had  ill  rewarded,  and  never  cared 
to  understand. 

Very  bitter  was  the  learning 
of  the  lesson  ;  very  sharp  the 
thorns  of  outraged  pride  which 
pierced  her  again  and  again  ;  very 
cruel  the  awakening  when  Love  tore 
the  bandage  from  her  eyes  and 
showed  her  what  she  bad  lost  by  the 
contrast  of  what  "  might  have  been." 


Without  being  didactic  the  comedy 
taught  its  own  moral.  That  extremes 
are  to  be  avoided  ;  that  a  certain 
amount  of  "  give  and  take  "  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  ;  that  life  cannot  be 
all  good  or  all  bad,  but  has  its  lights 
and  shades,  its  degrees  of  excellence 
and  inferiority ;  that  woman  may 
and  can  help  man,  but  more  often 
hinders  him  by  going  the  wrong  way 
about  it  ;  that  to  irritate  and  abuse 
and  circumvent  him  is  not  the  way 
to  win  a  higher  place  in  his  opinions, 
or  advance  her  own  ;  that  mutual 
sympathy  and  mutual  esteem  can 
work  together  for  the  good  of  both 
sexes,  while  opposition  and  defiance 
will  improve  neither. 

"  Good-natured  men  are  not  all 
fools,"  said  Mrs.  Golightly,  "  any 
more  than  people  who  take  wine  are 
all  drunkards  !  All  women  are  not 
virtuous,  but  all  men  are  not  im- 
moral !  To  obliterate  the  contrasts 
of  good  and  bad  lessens  the  charm 
of  one  and  the  example  of  the  other. 
Nature  is  perplexing  in  its  develop- 
ments, but  delightful  in  its  variations. 


a  •fcusbanfc  of  flo  importance  173 

The  difference  between  man  and 
woman  is  the  sole  law  of  their  mutual 
attraction.  If  you  make  them  ex- 
actly alike  they  '11  lose  all  interest 
for  each  other.  ...  If  they  do 
marry,  for  decency's  sake — it  will  be 
as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  pairing 
your  stables,  or  preserving  your  game. 


The  third  act  held  the  house 
breathless. 

Comedy  had  become  almost  trag- 
edy. The  flighty  woman  of  the  world, 
the  delightful  Frou-Frou,  with  her 
fastness  and  smartness  and  eccentric- 
ity, had  been  caught  in  her  own  toils. 
She  had  grown  to  care  with  all  the 
heart  she  possessed  for  the  man 
whose  mock  love  for  her  was  stabbing 
his  wife's  soul  through  and  through 
with  jealous  pain.  Then  came  an 
admirable  scene  between  the  two 
women — the  one  accusing  the  other 
of  ruining  her  happiness,  the  other 
with  her  glib  tongue  and  aching 
heart  defending  her  wij.es,  and  prov- 
ing with  feminine  logic  that  what  was 


174  a  twsbanD  of  tto  flmportance 

unappreciated  by  one  person  was 
quite  justified  in  seeking  the  regard 
of  some  one  else. 

"  What  good  were  you  to  your 
husband?"  she  coolly  inquired. 
"  Did  you  ever  give  him  sympathy, 
companionship,  affection  ?  Did  you 
ever  consult  his  tastes,  or  consider 
his  desires  ?  Did  you  ever  deny 
yourself  a  whim  or  a  want  in  defer-, 
ence  to  his  wishes  ?  No,  you  neg- 
lected home  and  duty,  and  took  your- 
self off  with  a  set  of  ranting,  irrational 
beings — those  Hermaphrodites  of 
modern  life  who  claim  to  be  above 
considerations  of  sex,  and,  while 
denying  its  most  sacred  obligations, 
take  refuge  under  its  banner  of  De- 
fencelessness  !  How  dare  you  blame 
me  if  I  step  into  your  place  !  You 
say  I  stole  your  husband's  love  ;  I 
maintain  you  offered  it  as  the  price 
of  your  own  freedom.  Now — you 
may  claim  that  freedom  if  you  will. 
He  offers  you  his  house  for  your 
Woman's  Guild,  his  fortune  for  the 
propagation  of  your  foolish  doc- 
trines ;  but  he  takes  from  you  what 


a  tmsbanO  of  1Ro  flmportance  175 

you  never  valued — his  own  great, 
loving  heart." 

There  was  not  a  sound  in  the 
house  except  one  low,  heart-broken 
cry  from  the  young,  unhappy  wife. 

Then  she  lifted  her  face,  pale, 
agonised,  beautiful  beyond  all  words. 

"  If  I  have  lost  his  love,"  she  said, 
"  have  you — gained  it  ? " 

For  a  moment  that  terrible  struggle 
between  good  and  evil  in  a  woman's 
nature,  the  tempting  of  passion,  the 
ignoble  prompting  of  rivalry,  swayed 
the  worldly  woman's  whole  soul. 
...  So  easy  it  would  be  to  say 
"  yes,"  to  erect  the  barriers  of  pride 
between  the  man's  silent  endurance 
and  the  woman's  crushed  and  humili- 
ated heart.  So  easy,  .  .  .  and  yet 
at  the  crucial  moment  she  failed. 

"  So  like  a  woman,"  said  the  critics. 

So  like  a  woman  !  But  God  be 
praised  that  at  such  crises  as  these 
she  is  more  true  to  her  sex  than  even 
that  sex  would  have  her.  That  some- 
thing noble  and  self-sacrificing 
springs  to  life,  a  sp?.rk  fanned  to 
flame,  and  though  the  flame  burns 


and  scorches  till  the  tender  flesh 
cries  out  in  agony,  it  rarely  fails  to 
sanctify  the  very  suffering  it  has 
caused. 

So  ended  the  comedy. 

The  "  new  woman  "  is  after  all  bat 
fashioned  on  the  old,  old  pattern. 
Touch  her  heart,  and  all  her  caprices 
and  vagaries  are  cast  to  the  winds. 
Claim  her  nobility  and  endurance, 
and  rarely  do  they  fail  to  respond  to 
that  call. 

The  curtain  fell  on  husband  and 
wife  reconciled  and  understanding 
one  another  as  but  for  this  lesson 
they  would  never  have  done,  while 
Mrs.  Cornelius  G.  Dobbs  fingered  a 
large  cheque  in  the  background  and 
announced  that  English  women  had 
no  "  grit,"  and  that  she  should  go 
back  to  "  Amurrca "  the  very  next 
packet  and  leave  the  guild  to  get  on 
as  best  it  could. 


"  Marion,  I  believe  you  're  actually 
crying  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Despard, 
under  cover  of  the  thunders  of  ap- 


B  •fcusbanfc  ofWo  Umportance  17? 

plause  which  rang  through  the  house 
and  brought  actors  and  actresses 
again  and  yet  again  before  the  cur- 
tan. 

"Hush!  ..."  said  Mrs.  Hex 
Aashleigh,  nervously,  and  laying  a 
strangely  trembling  hand  on  the  bare 
white  arm.  "  They  're  calling  au- 
thor. .  .  .  Now  we  shall  know  !  " 

For  long  it  seemed  as  if  no  re- 
sponse was  intended  to  that  call. 
Louder,  fiercer,  more  imperative  the 
cry  swelled  and  roared,  till  even  the 
languid  swells  of  the  stalls  took  it 
up,  and  insistence  threatened  to  de- 
velop into  tumult. 

Then  at  last  the  curtain  was  raised, 
and  the  whole  stage  stood  revealed. 
The  actors  and  actresses  were 
grouped  in  the  background,  and 
there,  literally  supported  by  the  grasp 
of  Charley  Wilton  and  Blake  Bev- 
erley,  was  the  shrinking  figure  and 
dead-white  face  of  Hex  Rashleigh. 


Mrs.  Hex  Rashleigh's  face  grew  as 

13 


i?s  a  f>usbano  of  IRo  "Importance 

white  as  that  on  which  she  gazed. 
Her  limbs  failed.  She  sank  back  in 
her  seat. 

"  Gracious  Heavens !  .  .  .  My 
husband  !  "  she  faltered. 

An  hour  later  she  sat  in  her  own 
room  alone. 

All  the  fruits  of  years  of  labour 
were  strewn  around  her.  They  lived 
in  the  crowded  book-shelves,  they 
faced  her  in  pamphlets  and  journals  ; 
they  were  the  very  atmosphere  of 
this  quiet,  studious  place  where  she 
had  lived  and  thought  and  worked 
in  that  one  groove  which  had  sud- 
denly been  flashed  before  her  as  a 
mistake  ! 

All  her  ideas  were  in  confusion. 
Her  castle  of  ambition  seemed  only 
a  castle  of  cards,  overthrown  and 
tumbling  ignominiously  about  its 
architect. 

This  man — this  being  of  no  im- 
portance, had  at  one  stroke  demol- 
ished it.  .  She  had  thought  him  a 
blind,  foolish,  witless  creature,  with 
no  opinions  worth  considering,  and 


a  tmsbano  of  mo  Umportance  179 

no  gifts  deserving  credence,  and  all 
the  time  he  had  been  working,  study- 
ing, and  finally  accomplishing  a  suc- 
cess that  swept  her  own  feeble  efforts 
into  nothingness.  He  had  reached  a 
higher  platform  than  she  could  climb, 
had  spoken  and  been  understood 
while  she  had  only  been  tolerated. 
He  had  been  able  to  call  the  world 
of  art  and  culture,  society  and  work, 
to  hear  him,  and  had  not  only  won 
their  praise,  but  touched  their  hearts. 

No  effort  of  hers  had  ever  done 
that ;  no  tears  of  awakened  sympa- 
thy, no  throb  of  answering  feeling 
had  been  the  guerdon  of  her  life's 
endeavour.  It  had  been  all  hard, 
thankless,  mistaken  labour,  and  he, 
the  man  whose  name  she  bore,  whose 
claims  she  had  ignored,  had  just 
quietly  bided  his  time,  and  studied 
her  as  a  doctor  studies  the  progress 
of  a  disease,  until  the  time  was  ripe 
for  a  blow. 

The  next  day  his  name  would  be 
all  over  London.  Before  a  week 
that  same  London  would  be  crowd- 
ing to  see  the  piece,  and  those  who 


i8o  B  Ibusbanb  of  1Wo  Ifmportance 

knew  her  would  recognise  the  cruel 
fidelity  of  the  portrait,  and  name  it 
too. 

"  The  New  Woman,"  .  .  .  was  that 
her  type  ?  The  woman  satirised  so 
mercilessly,  and  yet  sketched  so  lov- 
ingly, with  the  strong  brain  denying 
the  tender  heart,  and  the  heart  com- 
ing out  conqueror  in  the  end. 

How  those  speeches  rang  in  her 
ears  !  How  strangely  her  first  sense 
of  indignation  had  evaporated  !  She 
felt  as  one  who,  braced  to  deliver  a 
tremendous  blow,  strikes  but  the 
empty  air. 

"  Is  he  right  ?  .  .  .  Am  I  wrong  ? " 
she  cried  piteously,  and  the  woman- 
hood within  her  cried  out  to  the 
forces  of  suppression  like  prisoners 
long  stifled  for  want  of  air. 

What  a  coil  it  all  was  !  Right — 
Wrong.  Which  was  which  ?  Turn 
where  one  would,  the  same  conflict, 
the  same  difficulties  had  to  be  faced. 

She  felt  suddenly  weak.  Was  man 
to  be  Ahasuerus  after  all,  graciously 
extending  his  sceptre,  and  Woman, 


a  "fcusbanD  of  1Ro  Importance  181 

only  weak,  loving  Esther,  thankful  to 
touch  it,  and  live  ? 

The  hot  colour  suffused  her  face 
in  angry  waves.  She  felt  outraged, 
hurt,  and  something — was  it  Instinct 
or  only  Sex  ? — kept  clamouring,  "  He 
is  right  ! — he  is  right  !  The  woman's 
sphere  begins  with  love,  and  by  love 
alone  she  reigns.  .  .  .  He  the  Head 
and  she  the  Heart.  ...  So  may  Life's 
best  work  be  done  !  " 

Gradually  her  wrath  subsided. 
She  began  to  think  of  the  disturbing 
element  in  her  house  as  an  impor- 
tant factor  in  its  future. 

It  was  impossible  to  put  him  aside 
now,  to  regard  him  in  that  curious 
impersonal  fashion  which  relegates 
the  Unimportant  Husband  to  the 
limbo  of  garret  or  cellar.  Here,  al- 
most at  her  side,  he  had  lived,  and 
thought,  and  worked.  That  latter 
fact  alone  claimed  her  respect,  even 
as  the  preceding  ones  only  aroused 
her  wonder. 

No  voice  of  encouragement  ;  no 
friendly  help  ;  no  mutual  interest. 


182  a  ibusbanO  of  "Wo  Umportance 

Nothing  of  that  sweet  sympathy  so 
dear  to  the  author's  heart,  which  soft- 
ens the  stony  road  of  toil  so  kindly. 

Then  she  started,  and  again  the 
hot  colour  sprang  to  her  brow. 

She  remembered  Blake  Beverley. 

This,  then,  was  the  meaning  of 
that  strange  friendship.  They  had 
worked,  talked,  plotted  together,  and 
the  young  actor  had  employed  him- 
self in  studying  her  as  one  of  the 
types  of  woman  so  freely  presented 
by  the  play. 

No  wonder  Northerton  had 
amused  him.  No  wonder  he  had 
flirted  with  Mrs.  Despard,  and 
studied  the  wily  tactics  of  the  Bird 
of  Prey. 

All  these  women  had  been  sport 
for  him  in  their  different  fashions. 
They  had  come  opportunely  on  the 
stage  of  his  life,  and  been  joyfully 
sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of  art. 

And  yet — was  he  so  much  to 
blame  ? 

They  were  true  to  life,  and  Blake 
Beverley  had  represented  life  to- 


B  DusbanD  of  mo  importance  183 

night.  As  he  spoke  to  "  Lady 
Warrender,"  so  he  had  spoken  to 
herself,  and  even  as  the  stage 
heroine  had  felt  and  acknowledged 
the  truth  of  his  good-humoured 
strictures,  so  she,  the  living  type, 
acknowledged  them. 

The  chiming  of  the  timepiece 
struck  sharply  on  her  ear,  and  re- 
minded her  how  late  was  the  hour. 

For  the  first  time  she  wondered 
if  her  husband  had  returned.  For 
the  first  time  it  struck  her  that  of  all 
who  had  surrounded  him,  praised, 
encouraged  him  to-night,  his  own 
wife  had  stood  aloof.  He  knew,  in 
his  own  heart,  that  she  was  a  thing 
apart  from  that  Fame  and  all  it 
might  mean.  To  her  he  would  only 
be  as  always — the  Husband  of  no 
Importance. 

"  No  doubt  he  is  celebrating  the 
occasion  as  men  do,"  she  told  her- 
self, bitterly.  "  Even  fame  only 
means  to  them  an  excuse  for  a  'big 
feed,'  and  an  extra  allowance  of 
champagne  or  whisky." 


184  &  tmsbanfc  of  Ho  importance 

But  her  conscience  pricked  her 
as  she  said  it.  She  knew  him  so 
little,  after  all. 

She  turned  out  the  light  and 
abruptly  left  the  room. 

Was  it  only  curiosity  or  the  mem- 
ory of  one  other  night  when  she 
had  sought  this  insignificant  house- 
hold appendage  of  hers,  that  turned 
her  footsteps  in  the  direction  of  his 
own  dingy,  lonely  room  ? 

Perhaps  she  did  not  wait  to  think, 
but  only  let  Impulse  lead  her  as  it 
might  have  led  a  quite  ordinary 
woman. 

Her  hand  touched  the  door ;  it 
opened  softly,  and  she  stood  silently 
on  the  threshold  looking  at  the 
Unimportant  Man  whose  name  was 
on  a  thousan'd  lips  to-night. 

He  was  seated  at  the  untidy,  lit- 
tered table.  Genius  has  often  a  very 
poor  manger  for  its  birthplace. 

His  arms  were  folded,  his  head 
bowed  down  on  them. 

For  a  moment  she  wondered  why 
she  had  never  noticed  before  those 


B  InisbanD  of  IHo  "(Importance  185 

manifold  streaks  of  grey  in  the  dark, 
ruffled  hair. 

He  had  not  heard  her  entrance, 
but  quietly  and  slowly  he  lifted  his 
head,  and  then — he  saw  her. 

His  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  She 
saw  him  in  some  foolish  schoolboy 
fashion  draw  the  old,  worn  coat- 
sleeve  over  his  wet  lids,  and  then 
all  the  frozen  hardness  of  her  heart 
seemed  suddenly  to  break  and  fall 
asunder,  and  warmth  and  pity — the 
pity  so  near  akin  to  Love — rushed 
swift  as  summer's  rain  through  every 
pulse,  and  in  her  eyes  too  the  hot 
tears  rose,  looking  at  that  worn, 
tired  face  of  his. 

Half  startled,  half  abashed,  he 
looked  at  her,  the  beautiful  folds 
of  her  theatre  gown  still  falling 
round  the  grand  harmonious  lines 
of  her  figure.  .  .  .  He  looked,  and 
his  hands  went  out  to  her  entreat- 
ingly. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  for- 
give me  !  I  forgot  that  it  might 
hurt  you." 


i86  a  fDusbano  of  Bo  Umportance 

Then  she  laughed  ;  but  a  sob 
caught  the  laughter  and  hushed  it, 
and  she  was  trembling  like  a  child 
in  his  arms. 

"  It  is  you,"  she  cried,  "  who 
must  forgive.  You  have  taught  me 
my  lesson — to-night." 


THE    END. 


THE   AUTONYM   LIBRARY. 


Small  works  by  representative  writers, 
whose  contributions  will  bear  their  signa- 
tures. 

32mo,  limp  cloth,  each  50  cents. 

The  Autonym  Library  is  published  in 
co-operation  with  Mr.  T.  Fisher  Unwin,  of 
London. 

I.  THE  UPPER  BERTH,  by  F.  Marion  Craw- 

ford. 

II.  FOUND  AND   LOST,  by   Mary  Putnam- 
Jacobi. 

These  will  be  followed  by  volumes  by 
other  well-known  writers. 


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